The Best of Me
by MrsRen
Summary: Officially, Hermione Granger was killed in action during the Battle of Hogwarts. Unofficially, Draco Malfoy has never stopped searching for her. Years after the war during a mission in France, his salvation comes in the form of a little blond boy and a familiar half-Kneazle. [COMPLETE.]
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, this is my new Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger fic. It was prompted to me on tumblr, and I put a big dent in this over the month of November, so it will be updating weekly since I'm so far ahead. **

**There will be angst in this story, more angst than I've written in others, I think. I'm so grateful for my friends who have encouraged me, and helped me craft this story even when I wasn't sure that I liked it. All of my love to mcal, dreamsofdramione, and Frumpologist. I'm not sure what I'd do without you. **

**Mostly edited by myself, so all mistakes are my own. **

* * *

Ripping the zipper of his rucksack into place, and nearly causing all of its contents to spill out, Draco shot a glare at the man hovering at the foot of his bed. If you could call it that. The bed the inn had given them felt more like laying on a bed of fucking nails, and no amount of transfiguration would change that.

"You're hovering." He muttered, reaching for his wand. "Have you been hanging around Molly Weasley too much lately? I thought you were after her daughter—"

Potter's eyes sharpened. "Ginny and I aren't—"

"_Together_," Draco filled in sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Yes, I'm well aware of your sexual escapades. You and the female Weasley aren't dating anymore, but you can't help shagging each other stupid."

"I wouldn't put it that way."

Draco paused, his bag falling to the bed. "Really?" He asked, arching an eyebrow. "You wouldn't put it that way? Well, I would since she's always in our flat. I've had the displeasure of seeing your arse more than I would like."

Their previous conversation plummeted off the rails, which was what Draco wanted, and Potter went straight for the bait. "You're the one who never knocks."

"You need to learn how to use a locking charm, or for that matter, a silencing charm. Put a sock on the door for all I care." Slinging the rucksack over his shoulder, Draco slid his wand into the holster strapped to his forearm, below his sleeve. "I'll be back."

Harry side stepped in front of him, shaking his head. "Malfoy, don't do this. You got the same memo as I did. Robards wants us on that portkey in an hour. There's nothing to find here, nothing but—"

Pushing past him with a slam of his shoulder, Draco spat, "Nothing but ghosts?"

His features shifted toward pity, and Draco took another step. "If she were anywhere, she would have found her way back to us." Potter murmured, raking his fingers through his hair until it stuck in all different directions. "Hermione would have come back to you. We've been over this."

Pausing at the door, and tracing where it was splintered, hair fell into Draco's eyes. "Spare me the speech. It's nothing but a monologue with you, and I've heard it enough." The floorboards creaked under their combined weight as Draco made his way down the rickety set of stairs, and his partner rushed after him two steps at a time. "I'll meet you back at the Ministry after I'm done."

He'd reached the lobby before Harry's hand clamped down on his shoulder and ripped him backward. Draco jerked away from him, a sharp insult close to rolling off his tongue. "You may have stopped searching, and I get that, but I'm not going to stop. Not today, not tomorrow, and certainly not any day that follows."

Harry shifted his weight, his hand limp at his side even though it twitched toward his wand.  
"She wouldn't want this for you."

His face fixed into a mask, Draco didn't say anything beyond that. It was always the same. He searched for her—and would continue to do so no matter how many years passed—and Potter attempted to help him move on.

_Move on. _

That was what he was supposed to do, Draco understood that very well. His mandated shrink during his parole after the war, and now as an Auror, had made it crystal clear how unhealthy it was to hold on to someone who was gone.

And Granger was gone. There was no mistake about that. He'd watched it with his own two eyes during the Final Battle as his aunt turned her wand, and Hermione vanished in an explosion of magic that Unspeakables still didn't understand. No one did, no matter how many galleons he promised to dole out if they could.

But there wasn't a body, and until he found one, well, surely that meant there was a chance he'd find her walking around. Alive.

Only there were a million things wrong with that, and Potter would list them if he was allowed to.

_She would have never left us, Malfoy. Not you, not Ron, not me. _

_Not everyone who loved her. _

That didn't change the fact that the inn keeper had recognised her. It might have been the smallest shred of recognition, and it might be another useless dead end that sent him into a spiral, but it was there.

His hair hung in front of his face, void of gel, and the file in his rucksack weighed more than all of its contents combined. "I'm going," Draco repeated, the toe of his boot dragging along a crack in the floor. "Catch the portkey, and I'll meet you at the Ministry when I grab the next one out."

His partner groaned, knotting his fingers in his hair. "What do you think the chances are that she's here? Honestly?"

Refusing to meet Potter's eyes, Draco contemplated stunning him so he could walk away without an argument. Each second they spent quarrelling was another second he lost. "It might be nothing. Is that what you want to hear me say?" He snarled. Draco turned on his heel, and stormed out of the inn, leaving the door banging against the wall in his wake.

"Malfoy!" Leaves crunched beneath the footsteps that followed him. "I'm not your enemy here. If you say there's a chance, then we go. I'm in."

Draco watched him, his glare sharpening as Potter blinked several times. "I thought you were worried about Robards."

"He wants us on another mission by this time tomorrow," Potter grumbled as he fell into step beside him. "If I go back alone, he'll be that much more difficult when you land in the DMLE. If it's both of us—"

"I don't need a keeper."

"Then he'll let it go sooner. We're partners."

* * *

When Potter had said he was in, it apparently came with the stipulation of carrying on a conversation that Draco didn't want to have. Neither did Harry, not when they'd had it already so many times before.

"We've looked everywhere," he began quietly, and a branch snapped below his boot. "We followed down your lead, and no one here recognises her photograph."

Draco released a heavy breath, staring down at the well worn photo in his hand. It was a moment frozen in time. He remembered it well, the safehouse in the middle of the war they'd spent far too much time after the raid on Malfoy Manor. His jumper slid off her shoulders, a tad too large on her delicate frame. She was grinning.

At _him_, at something he'd said.

Draco couldn't even remember what it was anymore.

Back then, they had been living as if each day could be their last. From the start, he'd never imagined being trapped inside of a safehouse with her after destroying horcruxes went to shite.

For all their talk of living like each day would be the last, he'd never expected to lose her. She was so inherently good that—

"It should have been me."

Potter sucked in a sharp breath and laid a hand on his shoulder. "No, it shouldn't have. You can't think that."

"Anyone who knows about the two of us thought that." Draco countered, crushing a leaf under his foot. "You must have too."

His counterpart stiffened, and it was all the answer Draco needed. "Wait." Harry shook his head. "When Hermione disappeared, I wanted her back. I would have given anything to make it so, but I wouldn't have sacrificed you for it."

"I can't keep doing this. I search for her everywhere."

"I know."

Chewing his lower lip, Draco admitted, "I see her everywhere."

Harry bumped shoulders with him. "You're allowed to miss her, forever if you want. At some point though…" He trailed off. "You have to accept that you're not going to find her. It's been six years."

Draco knew that. There were only so many reasons Hermione _wouldn't _have returned, and none of them were good. "She wouldn't have given up on me. It's about bringing her home, even if it's not in one by whatever means necessary."

Harry dragged a tired hand down his face. "You don't sleep."

He opened his mouth, only to be cut off.

"We've shared a flat for three years. I have to admit that I've enabled this behavior, but you can only go so far before you don't come back. You ask about her in every city we visit. I know how much you loved her, but—"

The wind ripped past them, and Draco drew his jacket tighter around him. "Potter, wait. Do you see that?" He pointed up the hill, his eyes narrowing as his chest tightened. "That looks like—"

"For Merlin's sake!" Harry snapped, his eyes flashing. "I know what you're thinking, and no, it's not fucking possible. Crookshanks wouldn't be in France."

Draco's hands balled into fists inside his pockets as the large orange feline strutted down the hill, his tail swishing behind him. "It would make sense. Granger never went anywhere without that blasted beast, and I'm as certain as I can be that Crooks isn't in England, and neither is she."

Potter turned away from him, muttering obscenities under his breath. "You're going to drive yourself mad with this. Hermione is dead." He hissed, poking a finger into Draco's chest.

A soft meow drew Draco's attention, and he stared at his feet. The Crookshanks lookalike slithered between his legs, nuzzling his ankles. "Fuck you."

"Malfoy, I'm worried—"

"Stuff your worry up your arse." Draco knelt down, smoothing a hand down the cat's back. "Who are you?"

Another meow answered him.

"You're just as bushy as you ever were."

"Malfoy—"

"Are you still here?"

Harry huffed. "You need to look up right now. I think you might have been right about something."

Draco's head snapped up while small, razor like teeth nipped the end of his finger. "I don't," Draco wheezed, eyes widened as it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. "I don't understand." The cat rolled onto his back, exposing his belly and there was a jingle from his collar. With shaking fingers, Draco reached down to turn over the little bronze tag on his collar.

_Crookshanks_

Under a set of normal circumstances, he would have gloated over Potter. He'd been right after all. This was the same half-Kneazle for an affinity for his trousers and covering them in hair.

However, he couldn't find his voice as a little boy ran down the hill, calling for Crooks.

A little boy with white-blond hair and pointed features boasting an all too familiar smirk when his eyes landed on Crookshanks.

* * *

He wasn't sure how he managed to stand upright as his vision swam. Meeting Potter's wide eyed stare, Draco forced himself to accept the fact that he wasn't imagining anything. "Is this your cat?" Draco swallowed, and his voice was raw. "I believe he may have gotten lost."

_That's—This is—_

"He likes to run down the hill. We were up there." His voice was small, childlike.

_Of course it's fucking childlike. What would you expect? He can't be older than five. _

He waved a handful of flowers around. "I was picking these for Mummy. Her birthday was last week, but I think she forgot. Mummy forgets things sometimes."

His lungs were going to collapse. Nearly certain of that, he looked to Harry while the child cooed at Crooks. Hermione's birthday had been last week, a night he'd spent locked in his study with a decanter and no glass in sight.

_Draco was going to throw up. _

_He was going to—_

"Mister?"

—_stay calm. _

"Yes?" Draco croaked.

Slate grey eyes peered up at him curiously, and a bundle of flowers remained in the boy's right hand. "Crooks hates strangers."

Draco nodded just as Crooks hissed at Harry, glaring while hiding behind Draco's legs. "I suppose I'm just lucky that he likes me." He swallowed again, his chest threatening to crack open. "Do you mind if we see you home? I would wonder if you've gotten lost."

He shrugged. "If you like." His accent wasn't heavily British, Draco notices, but it was there. "Follow me."

As Potter's eyes connect with his, Draco wondered why it was that a little boy would be so welcoming to a pair of strangers. Not that they looked like deviants, but Draco had to admit they both appeared to be rough around the edges. It must have been due to the atmosphere of a small town where no one was a stranger mixed with the childlike ideology that anyone can be trusted.

The end of the thought left Draco reeling.

Crooks dutifully stayed close to the boy, occasionally turning to look back at Draco.

The street veered to the left, leading them away from closely clustered shops and into a neighborhood of quaint homes. With a literal bounce in his step, the boy called, "This is our house. Oh no."

"Scorpius!" The voice cracked through the air like a whip, and the way Potter froze mid step didn't escape him. It was motherly, strict, and authoritative, but all her.

It was all Granger, and the ground below him threatened to give way. Draco's hand shot up, colliding with Potter's chest _hard_ before he could run forward.

Potter returned the move in kind by squashing Draco's foot. "That's Hermione."

Draco didn't need anyone to tell him that.

Fact of it was that several things slammed into him at once.

She was alive, fawning over who Draco can only assume is her—_their_—son. While she looked so much of the same, he noticed the subtle differences between the woman in front of him and the girl in the picture crinkled in his pocket. There were lines from where she'd laughed, and a tiny scar at her right temple that sends anger unfurling down his spine because he _knew_ it hadn't been there the last time he'd seen her. Granger's hair wasn't as wild anymore, just curly, and halfway tied back while the rest framed her face. She wore makeup, a thin line of black that made her eyes stand out.

Luckily, she didn't notice his staring.

His name was Scorpius. A constellation.

Draco.

Scorpius.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. _

Scorpius had white blond hair that glints under the afternoon sun and a sharp jab from Potter's elbow signaled that his Auror partner was thinking the same thing as him.

He needed to say something, he realised as Granger lifted her head, and granted him a smile. "Hello," Draco managed, both syllables feeling like razors as he did. "We were worried your son would get lost. I hope it's not a problem that we saw him home."

Scorpius swayed on his feet, a wide smile stretching his cheeks as he pressed the flowers into her hand.

The corner of her lips twitched. "It's no problem at all. Scorpius isn't supposed to wander." She shot a warning look toward him, and Scorpius rocked back on his heels. "But he doesn't like to listen."

Potter snorted.

That sentence had to be the only thing that could sum up her years of Hogwarts. "A constellation?" Draco asked, unable to help himself. "That's interesting; I was named after one as well. Draco." He introduced, holding out his hand.

She was warm, and he'd been cold since she vanished from just a step away from him. .

Hermione laughed, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Yes, I had an unfortunate accident, so I don't remember, er, the beginning of my pregnancy." Each word was like a stunner to the chest. "However, from the day I woke up, that was the name I'd settled on. I suppose it was so important that it stuck."

He was going to vomit. There had been a sleepy conversation toward the end of the war as they were trapped in a safehouse as the world burned. They'd joked about curly headed blondes with a terrible sense of justice. He could remember being selfish enough to want it even though she deserved more than any life he'd ever be able to give her.

Still, the memory was as vivid as the rest of them.

_Scorpius_, he'd said as she traced the Sectumsempra scar that stretched across his chest.

"That's a terrible thing to hear." Potter interjected, extending a hand. "Harry, nice to meet you."

"Scorpius told is it was your birthday last week. Happy belated birthday…" Draco trailed off, allowing the words to hang in the air as if he didn't know her name, and everything about her, only added to the turmoil rolling in his gut.

She supplied, "Hermione, and thank you."

He couldn't help himself from continuing the conversation, uncertain of whether he'd be able to walk away when she did. "Interesting choice. Shakespeare, or the Daughter of Troy?"

Unsurprisingly, Potter only looked confused by the question.

She faltered, her eyes widening at the comment, but then she grinned. "Shakespeare, I'm sure," Hermione said. "The Daughter of Troy fled, which was quite brave, and I'm the complete opposite."

"Mummy, is it time for lunch?" Scorpius tugged on the hem of her jumper. "Could we invite them?"

She looked from her son to them. "If you'd like to, we have the room." Hermione breathed, a smile curving her lips.

Potter swept in, his wand digging a hole into the small of Draco's back. "We can't, unfortunately. We're due back in England, and we're about to miss our flight." Harry explained easily. "Thank you—"

"Just a question," Draco interrupted. "Before we go, I'm actually looking to move here. Are there any homes available for sale that you know of?"

"_What?" _Harry hissed under his breath.

She didn't think him odd at all, which was fortunate. "Just the home across the street and down a way. It's been abandoned for over a year."

Draco nods. "Thank you. It was lovely to meet you both."

Each step that carried him away from them felt like blocks tied to his feet, but Potter didn't give him the chance to turn around. "Look. I know you want to run in there half-cocked, but we don't know what we're dealing with. We need to get back to the DMLE and talk to Robards."

Draco knew that. "She's alive."

With a short flick of his wand, Potter enshrouded them in a silencing charm.

"She had my _son_."

Harry dipped his head, weakly nodding. "Yeah, she did."

Draco's knuckles were a stark white as he sank to the ground, his hands clenched, and he imagined his face looks just the same. "That's my son. That's Granger, and she doesn't remember me."

Harry's words were far away as he pulled at the grass, hot tears stinging his eyes.

Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Princess, literal Golden Girl, not brave?

It's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.

* * *

**Soooo, that's the first chapter. I'd love to hear what you thought. You can leave a comment here, or you can always pop into my ask box on tumblr at mrsren96, where you can remain anonymous as well if you prefer! **

**Thanks for reading, I'll see you next week! Have a good week/holiday/weekend. **


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm supposed to update on Tuesday, but I know work will keep me busy so I'm giving you this update a few days early! I am so shocked and humbled by the massive amount of support for this story. I really don't know what to say, but thank you so much. **

**Thank you to mcal and dreamsofdramione for pre-reading. Edited by myself, and I did have to switch this entire chapter from present tense to past tense, so if you see that error, it's my fault too. I hope you enjoy chapter two! **

* * *

Head Auror Robards had never been the sort of man Draco wanted to cross, even though most of his time was spent irritating his boss within an inch of his life. His fingers still shaking, he paid careful attention to each sound echoing in the DMLE. He lingered on each footstep, all of them too light to belong to Robards. Unclenching his fist, and his jaw, Draco looked at Potter while he paced a hole in the floor outside Robard's office. "He's been gone for an hour. What's going on?"

Harry's eyes were bloodshot, and he shook his head while bouncing his knee nervously. "I don't know. He's probably talking to Kingsley. It's a significant break in a closed case."

"Clearly they never should have closed it," Draco hissed. Her file was heavy in his hand, a thick manilla folder detailing everything they knew about her: her early life as she lived as a muggle, her records from Hogwarts, her role in the war. Every stage of her life, every accomplishment, every move she made was written in plain black and white-an entire life boiled down to nothing but facts. "She's alive." He whispered, still afraid to fully believe it.

Harry nodded. "I want to tell Ron, but I can't."

Robards had made it clear. The discovery in France was on a strict _need to know_ basis, and even Weasley didn't make the cut.

Draco leans against the wall, his forehead meeting the cool metal of the door frame. "We'll tell him the second we can, Potter. Don't let your guilt eat at you."

Heavy, familiar footsteps echo from down the hall, and Draco's head snapped up. Robards stood there, weary eyed as he looked them over. "Didn't I tell you both to go home and get some sleep?" he rumbled, closing the gap in the corridor as he nudged his door open with his boot.

"With all due respect, sir," Draco said as he stepped inside, "I'm not going anywhere until I know something about Granger." The office was pristine, complete with white walls, and a row of photographs of Robards' family on the shelves. Draco had seen it several times over the course of his reprimands. Recognising the faces of the man's family made him think of what could have been his own. Hermione, Scorpius, and even that cat that liked him so well. "I want to go back to France. I'm putting in a notice of leave."

The man fell into his chair, shaking his head. "Auror Malfoy, you're not going anywhere near that village until we've had the chance to conduct surveillance. For all we know, this is an imposter—"

Harry winced at the words.

For what it was worth, Draco didn't explode how he's sure Harry expected . Bracing his hands on the edge of his boss's desk, he leans forward as his lips flatten into a thin line. "That's Granger, and that boy is my son. I _know _it's her."

A heavy sigh filled the air. "I know the possibility of it being someone else is slim to none, but it's an avenue we have to explore in this investigation because no one's seen Hermione Granger in five years," Robards began. "Which is strange, considering her disappearance."

"She's clearly been Obliviated!" Draco snapped. "She has no memory of our relationship. She didn't even recognise Potter, for fuck's sake."

"We should hear what he has to say," Potter murmured, bumping Draco's shoulder. "We know it's Hermione, so we need to let the Ministry prove it."

Draco bristled as Robards clasped his hands and hunched over in his chair. It's a stance both Aurors have seen over the years, but for once it's not due to something they _weren't _meant to be doing. "For what it's worth, I believe you."

"Then we need—"

"Auror Malfoy, if you interrupt me one more time, I'll silence you." Robards' gaze flicked between the two of them. "Let's assume it is her. Let's assume Hermione is in France right now with your child. What is your plan exactly? You can't run in there while spouting the truth about a magical world, considering she likely has no memory of magic at all. The Minister and I both believe that she's been Obliviated, likely by Lestrange, but we can't prove that until we send a team to France. It's a delicate situation, boys."

Trapping his lower lip between his teeth, Draco turned away, his heart rattling in his chest. "Then at the least, can I—"

Robards shook his head. "It's too risky for either of you to go back there. One wrong word," he said gravely. "If you let even the smallest of details slip, it could cause more damage than what's repairable. We're sending a small team of Aurors to survey who's around her, and mind healers that will enter her home while she's asleep."

"You're going to scare the shite out of her!"

"She's not going to wake up. You shouldn't be fighting me on this. The only way Hermione can ever regain her memories is if we discover the extent of the damage."

Draco sighed, his fingers curling around the edge of the desk. "Won't you let me go? I didn't let anything slip while we were there." He was begging, and Malfoy's didn't beg. He'd heard that for years, but it didn't matter anymore.

He would do anything to get back to her, even if it was only going to carve out a deeper wound in his heart.

"My decision is final. The pair of you are a conflict of interest. You're too close to this, which makes you dangerous." Robards came around his desk to stand between them, laying a hand on either of their shoulders. "We'll get her home. I'll update you the second I have any information."

He ushered them out of his office, the door clicking into place with an air of finality, and Potter grabbed a hold of Draco before he can do something stupid like make his way back to her.

* * *

Robards sent him a missive detailing the reasons why he should take the day off early in the next morning. It came with another parcel from his therapist, and an order for potions floats to the ground. Already dressed in uniform, Draco contemplated Flooing into the Ministry. Potter was already gone through, leaving a half naked Weasley in their flat—who was already helping herself to the cereal in the kitchen—and they were to be assigned a mission within the hour.

_If _he went, which he wasn't planning on doing at all.

"Malfoy? You're out of milk."

"Probably because you guzzled it all." He muttered with more venom than he meant to.

She padded away, grumbling under her breath.

He leaned against the mantle, plucked a quill from the end table and scrawled his signature across the line at the bottom before returning it with the Ministry owl. He collapsed into the chair in front of the fireplace, resting his elbows on his knees while he focused on each breath.

Ginny issued him a quiet goodbye as she stepped into the Floo, a concerned look furrowing the space between her brows. "See you," she calls.

Draco gave a crude two finger salute in order to keep up the appearance that he was merely his normal, surly self. It didn't take long before he decided it was a terrible idea to lock himself inside the flat. A few moments alone would leave him just enough time to work up the nerve to purchase an international portkey.

Somewhere, she'd always been alive.

Granger was alone, he thought. Alone while raising their son as a single mother—

His mind came to a sudden halt with a startling though as his footsteps carry him down the street leading into Diagon Alley. _Is she seeing someone? _Of course, he'd have never wished for her to be a single mother, but if she _were_ in a relationship, he wasn't sure what would come next. Plans were already rapidly spinning into place at the front of his mind.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Draco took his time stopping by the apothecary to fill the prescriptions. While the Ministry hired therapist couldn't possibly have any idea of the dizzying turn his life had just taken, it was obvious that Robards had meddled given the new potions he'd been given.

Small vials of Dreamless Sleep clink together in the sack Draco held tightly in his fist. _It's enough to get him through the week_, the clerk behind the counter said quietly in an attempt to conserve his privacy. It was a useless waste of time when anyone behind him was already watching.

The stain on the Malfoy name had never quite gone away.

A day in Diagon Alley was only so distracting. He stopped by the grocery and did some much-needed shopping since Potter was never going to do it, and his _friend_ eats all their food. He made a short stop inside of Flourish and Blotts to pay for his mother's most recent order since he knew there must be at least one.

It was the least he could do since he scarcely visited the manor anymore. Towering over the grounds, dark, and dismal, he could go the rest of his life without seeing it, and it would still be too soon. That wasn't to say he hadn't visited for the sake of his mother, but the wing in which Granger had writhed on the floor—where his mother had always used—was off limits to him.

It was because of Hermione that he wouldn't sit there where he knew her blood had congealed, seeping into the narrow lines of the floor. It had been washed away, footsteps tracked over it as the years passed, but he knew exactly where she'd laid.

His parents didn't have a clue. Outside of Potter, Weasley, and those closest to her, no one did. While it had been impossible to hide from anyone else who'd been in the safehouse with them, there weren't many. It'd been for the best after the war. Had the masses known, suddenly they would have spat on the war memorial where her name was engraved rather than left flowers. It was more than he could stand.

The memorial was his next stop even though it was probably a mistake.

Fingers curling around his wand, Draco Apparated into Hogsmeade, and landed with an audible snap that echoed on the outskirts of the village. There was a welcome sign that's falling apart, in desperate need of replacement, but it was one of the last things still standing from when the village had been levelled during the Final Battle.

He passed the onlookers, granting a tight lipped smile toward Madam Rosmerta who waved. While she's forgiven him, it was probably best not to press his luck by talking to her at all. And it was worth mentioning that she'd only fully forgiven him after he wrangled a problem customer during Potter's birthday.

The war memorial was a large slab of granite erected on the other edge of the village. There were benches placed around it, creating a circle, and an elderly witch sat on one, crocheting what looks like a scarf. "Did you lose someone?" she asked quietly, her needles clacking together.

He exhaled softly, blood rushing to his head. "Yes."

She didn't say another word as he walked to the other side, his fingers brushing against the cool surface until he found her name.

_Hermione Granger _

_1979 - 1997 _

_Order of the Phoenix Member, Dumbledore's Army, Order of Merlin, First Class—posthumously. _

"_You've always been the best of me." _

Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes before he could stop them. The parting words had originally been given to Potter and Weasley, those who had known her best. In a move that had ultimately buried any ill-will between the three of them, they'd gifted the chance to say goodbye to him.

His fingers traced the words. "It still true, always true," Draco whispered, and vanished from the spot.

* * *

Later that night, Potter must have realised he's not in their cushy flat, and concluded that Draco was up to no good. He wouldn't be wrong, Draco knew as he nursed what is his sixth glass of firewhisky while sitting at the bar of a seedy pub.

Potter was in plain clothes, a good idea considering they've been here before for work related reasons. "Whatever you're searching for, you're not going to find it at the bottom of that glass."

Draco shot him a rude gesture and drained the glass. "Don't tell me how to spend my personal day. I'm fine." But his foot slipped as he stepped off the stool, part way through a motion of making a show of how he was _fucking fine. _

There's no _I told you so_ as Potter supported his weight, slipping an arm behind his back while yanking Draco to lean on him. "Ready to head home then?"

He let Potter steer him toward the public Floo while holding him up. "Went to—" His words slur.

Potter laughed low. "Want to try that again before or after the Sober Up potion I shove down your throat?"

Draco shook his head fervently. "No potion." The fireplace was solid beneath his feet, but he'd never felt more off kilter. "It doesn't hurt as much right now."

A sigh surrounded them as Potter reached for a handful of Floo powder, and they landed in their flat. "Are you planning to spend the rest of the week like this?" Harry asked. "I know it hurts, and I can't say I haven't wanted to do the exact same thing all day, but Hermione—"

Draco hurriedly lifted a finger to his lips.

"Ginny's touring with the Harpies this week. She's not here." Harry lit the fire with a flourish of his wand, and fell into one of the chairs. "Are you sure you don't want a Sober Up Potion?"

He nodded, the sofa dipping beneath his weight. "What did Robards put you on today?"

"Patrolling in Knockturn Alley. He'll probably do the same to you."

"So he can make sure we're not running off to France." Draco murmured. "Through all of today, I just wonder what she's doing. What her life must be like over the years."

Potter summoned a tumbler of his own, and a bottle of firewhisky shot into his hand. "I'd offer you a glass, but I think you've had enough. Well, I have news. If Robards finds out, he probably won't be too happy about it, but I thought you needed something."

Draco's eyes narrowed as Potter took too long to take a drink.

"She's single still."

Oxygen rushed into Draco's lungs, and he leaned against the back of the sofa. "I'd wondered about that." He swallowed.

"Figured you would." There was a thud as his tumbler came to rest against the table. "I know one of the Aurors on the mission. He couldn't tell me no. Hermione hasn't dated anyone seriously since she got there, and she's not seeing anyone now."

For one moment, he'd worried that she was close to someone.

In the next, he'd worried that there was someone acting as a father to his son, and it filled him with rage. It was supposed to be _him_.

Apparently, Potter gathered all of that information from one look at his face. "At least you won't have anyone to get out of the way, yeah? Swoop in to heal her broken heart, was that your plan if she wasn't single?"

Truthfully, there probably would have been more devious methods, but in order to keep the peace, they're so fond of breaking, Draco nodded.

"What are you planning to do?"

"Depends on what the Aurors learn," Draco muttered. "There's no grand plan here. She's without her memories, and I wonder—"

Harry perched on the edge of his seat, his eyes darkening from behind the rim of his glass. And while he said nothing, it's obvious that he was waiting for the end of Draco's sentence.

"What if she's happier now than she would be if she regained her memories? This world treated her like shite, and she would have sacrificed herself to save it." His voice was a low rumble. "She and I argued about this often, whether I was good enough to be with her. You and I both know I would've been more trouble than she deserved to deal with."

Harry's fingers swept through the condensation of his glass. "It's a decision that she should make, not you. Are you implying she shouldn't remember? Malfoy—"

Draco tugged on his trousers in a fit of nerves and bit his lip. "No, of course not." It wasn't that. In every moment that had passed since being forced to hold one side of an International Portkey, he'd been consumed with thoughts of what their life could have been like. "I fear I'll never be what she needs."

Snorting, Harry choked on his drink. "Things are different than they were after the war. You're an Auror, one of the best, I'd say. You've broken away from your parents—which Narcissa is pleasant, but your _father_—but the point is that you're wrong."

His doubts still gathered in his mind, but he kept them to himself.

"Whatever happens, we're going to figure it out," Potter reassured him. "Can't promise it's going to be easy, or that it won't take a long time, but we've already hit rock bottom. We're only going up from here."

* * *

As it turned out, they hadn't hit rock bottom, not yet.

Rock bottom was a healer standing in front of them, stringing words together that made sense separately, but Draco couldn't make sense of them together. It was a dull roar in his ears when Potter exploded, his face red as he shoved his finger into the healer's chest. Robards' face was sympathetic.

"Auror Potter." Robards' voice was a low timbre that cuts through the air, and left silence in its wake. "Reversing memory modification is dangerous." He warned. "It's not impossible, but Miss Granger is a special case."

The chair was soft below Draco, but he barely noticed falling into it. "So, we can't reverse the Obliviation?"

Healer Smith clasped his hands in front of him. "In a typical case, it would sometimes be possible for reversal with just one spell. However, minds are delicate. Obliviation is already so dangerous, and unraveling each—"

"Get to the fucking point," Potter hissed.

"Now that we know it was likely Lestrange, it appears she used a version of the spell I've never seen before. None of my colleagues have seen it, nor has anyone in other countries. I can assume it was modified using dark spells."

His face fell into his hands. "Of course it was. Aunt Bella was so good at that." Draco shuddered. "What does this mean? What comes next?"

Still a picture of calmness, and it was all the more irritating, Healer Smith's expression didn't change. "I've seen her memories. They're buried deep in her subconscious, behind a wall if you will—"

Draco latched onto that before the healer can finish his thought. "Can't we tear down a wall?"

"If you want to kill her." Healer Smith said flatly. "Forcing her memories will kill her. It would eviscerate her mind, and as such, it's a risk we're not afforded. But," he took a short breath, "if Miss Granger were to remember gradually _on her own_, there's a theory her magic will protect her no matter how dormant it is."

A quill snapped in Draco's hand that he'd been fidgeting with, and ink poured down his hand, rolling off his fingertips before dripping to the floor. "How would we do that?"

"You can't drop hints about anything, no matter how subtle. However, I believe that if someone she knew from a former life inserted themselves into her life as it is now, she might start to remember. It's speculation how the memories would manifest, and there's still a chance of failure—"

Draco pushed himself out of the chair, his shoulders tensing. "I'm going to France, and I'll leave the Aurors if I have to."

Robards blinked, and his eyes are sympathetic. "I thought that would be the case. You need to give this thought; she may never remember you. If she doesn't—"

There was no internal debate.

"I'll live like a muggle for the rest of my life for her. For _him_."

Both Head Auror Robards and Healer Smith exchanged a heavy look. "I'll start the paperwork for you to assist with the French Ministry. You'll need a job to blend in." A stack of parchment rustled together as he picked it up. "I'll send you the information. You're sure about this?"

Draco nodded. "You already knew the answer to that."

"Verbal confirmation, Auror Malfoy."

Harry pulled him into the corridor, his voice hushed as he looked in either direction. "You know what you're doing?"

"Yes."

Harry looked him over. "What you said in there are pretty words, and I believe you, but can you really give all of this up?"

Irritated as he is by the insinuation, Draco couldn't drum up the anger for it. "Granger's it for me. I knew it then, and I know it now. Scorpius is my son. This—" he gestured around them "—is nothing compared to them. If I have to make her fall in love with me again, then I will."

"You'd snap your own wand?" Harry asked tentatively.

His hands balled into fists. "I hope it won't come to that, but if it does, would you—"

Potter took an uneasy breath. "You want _me_ to snap your wand?"

"If I can't."

Several long moments passed before Harry nodded. "You're my partner," he said, as if that explained everything.

* * *

**We will get back to Hermione next chapter, which is also when we will see her point of view as well! If you would pretty please leave a comment with what you thought of this chapter, it would make my day. See you next week!**


	3. Chapter 3

**If you weren't already aware, this story will be told from both Draco and Hermione's POV. We're just getting to Hermione's POV in this chapter. Still, I'm so awed by the response to this story. It's beyond anything I ever thought would happen. **

**Endless thanks to mcal pre-reading and helping me through the writing process and to dreamsofdramione for being the best beta in the world. Any remaining mistakes are my own. **

* * *

A folder laid in the middle of his bed, stamped with his first and last name on the notched label sticking out on the side. Flipping it open, he dragged a finger down the waxy surface of the photograph staring back at him. It was his most recent, taken for the badge he never used, and he thought that his face no longer matched the expression he wore now.

Two years separated him from a former version of himself, along with a slew of other things. Neatly tucked below it, he found his identification for the French government, magical and muggle alike. Robards had organised and cemented the details within a day of their meeting with Healer Smith.

On paper, the DMLE sent Auror Draco Malfoy to France to consult with their government for ongoing cases. It was the kind of mission they left to Aurors that _weren't _him, the ones that hadn't earned high-security clearance. It was the only reason Weasley teased him for being stuck with grunt work, and Potter swallowed the truth while they had one last round in a pub.

The rumour that he'd been reprimanded and sent on an assignment that was beneath his clearance circled the ranks, and he fanned the flames. If Robards heard about it, he didn't let Draco know.

Consulting was a cover, but like anything else, he intended to do it well. The first case detailed a low-level drug ring—muggle drugs mixed with potions were on the rise—and everything they had in the field of subjects. Draco discarded it amongst the sheets, certain he would unravel the 'mystery' of it within a few days of being there.

Everything about Granger was at the bottom of the stack. He wasn't certain he had the will to open it even when it taunted him. He'd see her tomorrow if he was lucky, and he intended to stage his arrival so exactly that happened.

It was only a matter of time, but he couldn't push away the suffocating thought that he didn't have much time at all.

* * *

The bell chimed and "_Mummy!" _immediately followed. Scorpius sprinted across the shop, his laces haphazardly untied, and he shoved the swinging door that led behind the counter open hard enough that it should have come back and smacked him.

Hermione caught it, her brows furrowed, but there was a wide grin stretching her lips as small hands tugged at her jeans. "How many times have I told you not to run in the shop?"

He muttered, "Who knows?" Scorpius hid behind her legs, fingers tickling against the space just below her elbows, earning a giggle from her. It was a recent thing he'd discovered, that he wasn't the only ticklish person in the world. "Can I read?"

Her fingers brushed against the top of his hair, smoothing it down from the wicked wind that whistled past the shop. "As long as you promise not to run."

Bobbing his head, Scorpius skipped off.

"No running!"

"I'm skipping!" he called back, but his voice was already softening as he neared the children's section.

Hermione shook her head, placing her hands on her hips while blowing out a breath. "I trust he wasn't too rowdy?"

"No more than usual," Clara replied. Her neighbour's hair was turning a soft grey, and there were lines next to her eyes from laughter. "You have a devilishly handsome new neighbour. White blond hair just like Scorpius." There was an implication in those words left better unsaid, and Hermione ignored it.

"Oh?" She only said it to make conversation, but then she paused while cleaning the counter. "What did he looks like?" _Surely it's not…_

There was a little twinkle in Clara's eyes, revealing mischief has no age. "Scorpius called out to him. He was here last week."

She remembered. It would be hard not to. "Yes, I recall. He asked me if there were any homes on the market. Nice man."

Clara's laugh closely resembled a cackle. "Nice man?" she echoed. "Is that all you have to say about him? Well, I'll come right out and say it: he's quite _nice _to look at."

Shaking her head as laughter bloomed in her chest, Hermione set to organising the countertop. She started with the candy jar that her son would come looking for any moment. "You're incorrigible."

"I'm just telling it how I see fit, dear." Clara grinned. "I didn't think I would ever get Scorpius to leave. He even asked to help him pull weeds. Of course, Mr. Malfoy and I both agreed that it wouldn't be appropriate. He's a stranger, after all."

A stranger that was more interesting than anyone else she'd come across in the last five years.

Hermione smiled. "Are you sure it was my son? He never volunteers to do chores."

Clara rested her hands on the counter, the rings adorning her fingers glittering under the sallow light. "I was just as shocked as you are, but Scorpius wanted to stay. Perhaps you'll find a new friend in your neighbour. He's a _nice_ man."

Sighing even as a smile forced its way onto her face, Hermione grabbed a bag from beneath the counter. "First of all, don't let that overactive mind of yours get to work already. Second, here is your order. It came in this morning, and yes, I already paid for it."

It began the never-ending squabble.

* * *

Scorpius stomped up the sidewalk, sending one last look to her before accepting that her answer was going to remain a resounding 'no, he cannot join her' before pushing his way into their home. She waited for the lights to flicker on, once and then twice before they're steady. Then she waited another thirty seconds, tapping her foot idly against the concrete until the lights in his bedroom turned on.

Her fingers bumped against the fence as she made her way down the street, humming low under her breath.

Draco was still outside, dirt coating his hair, and from where she stood, his cheek as he kneeled in the dirt. As she approached him, he didn't seem to hear her, and she could make out the low, guttural sound of profanities. "Fucking yard work. Mother makes it look so easy, but that's—"

A giggle left her lips, and his head whipped around. His brows drew together in what she assumed was mock offence, and Hermione shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to laugh!"

He climbed to his feet, brushing the dirt from his trousers while raising an eyebrow. "Are you certain? I mean, since you're still laughing." Draco smirked. "It's nice to see you again."

Hermione tucked her hands in her pockets, rocking back on her heels. "You as well. My sitter told me that you moved here. I'm pretty sure Scorpius will eventually find his way back to talk to you."

Draco wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, streaking dirt across it.

"You've got, um," Hermione motioned. "Dirt. All over your face."

He snorted. "Right, that's perfect. Well, I'd shake your hand, but—" Draco raised his hands, revealing just how filthy they were. "It's perfectly fine if he comes down here. As long as it's not a problem with you," Draco stumbled over his words. "He's well mannered."

Oh, she'd heard that before, but truthfully her son had a taste for mischief. Not that she'd ever have him any other way, though hopefully, his rebellious streak calmed before his teenage years. "He knows he's allowed to play at the park down the street, so he takes advantage of the opportunity to wander."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder, her eyes falling on the outline of Scorpius sitting in the window sill of his room. Only once she turned back did she truly look at the once vacant house.

It didn't look any different.

"Would you like some help with the cleanup?" Hermione asked, and she dragged her eyes to his face, _definitely _not noticing the way his shirt clung to his chest due to sweat. "I don't mind if you do."

Draco pulled the hem of his shirt up, revealing the majority of his abdomen as he dabbed his forehead. "You don't have to. I've got it under control."

There was no controlling the loud laugh that tumbled away from her. Swallowing, Hermione asked lightly, "Are you sure?"

He sighed, and gestured wildly behind him. "That bad?"

She shrugged, trying her hardest not to laugh. "No offence intended, but it looks like it needs a woman's touch."

Scratching the back of his neck, the motion pulled his shirt up once more. "I wouldn't want you to feel obligated."

Hermione stepped around him, frowning at the paint chipping off the side of the house. "It's no problem at all. As long as you don't mind…? Scorpius is a little loud, but if you can stand that, it won't be too bad."

"That would be fantastic," Draco agreed. "Scorpius is welcome to be as loud as he wants."

"Oh," Hermione laughed. "Don't tell him that."

A smile cut across his lips, revealing white teeth, and his hair fell into his eyes as he nodded. "Will do. I'll be busy tomorrow—first day of work—but whenever you're available?"

Hermione tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm busy with the shop until the weekend. Saturday?"

"Perfect."

Despite knowing fifteen minutes was more than enough time for Scorpius to have spoiled his dinner, Hermione found it difficult to turn away. Talking to Draco was refreshing and interesting and— "Right then. Well, I should probably get home before my son decides liquorice is an appropriate dinner. See you on Saturday."

He walked her to the gate, and she expected him to stop there, but Draco walked her the short ten yards to just in front of her home, too. "I don't mean to be overbearing," he started quietly. "London isn't so kind to young women walking in the dark is all."

It was a little odd, given the small town they lived in, but Hermione allowed him to afford her the chivalry. "Well, the last major assault was on me five years ago, so." Hermione laughed, and was unaware of the way he stiffened beside her. "I suppose that probably doesn't make you feel the slightest bit better."

"You'd be right," Draco rasped.

Hermione rested a hand on her gate, and slipped inside, flipping the latch into place. "Thank you for walking me home, Draco."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Are you being sarcastic?"

She feigned innocence, grinning when his eyes lit up. "I would never. All I'm saying is that you could have watched me get home safely from your porch."

"I'd be in danger to stand on that rickety thing. I'd fall right through," he countered. "How's your carpentry?"

Hermione shook her head, walking backward. "Terrible. Goodnight, Draco." Looking toward the street, she stole one last peek at him before stepping inside and shutting the door quietly. She locked both locks, and made her way into the kitchen. Her trainers squeaked against the tile and she found Scorpius already in place at the table with a bowl of cereal. "That's not dinner."

He defiantly lifted a spoonful of colourful cereal to his mouth, and gave her a grin followed by a crunch.

* * *

Ten minutes after finishing his cereal, Scorpius whined that he was hungry again. Hermione was only half-way reading a book when he bumped her leg and asked for the leftover Shepherd's Pie in the fridge. "I'll make it for you, just let me mark my place."

"Can we take food to Draco?" When she didn't immediately reply, he sighed heavily. "What if he doesn't have any food?"

She sniggered. "I'm sure he has food."

Scorpius' eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "He could be starving," he insisted, all dramatics. "Muuuum!"

"Fine, fine," Hermione conceded, pulling two plates from the cupboard. "Do you want to take it to him yourself?"

He bobbed his head. Scorpius ripped the plate out of her hands, still warm, and hurried towards the door. "I'll be right back!"

Hermione followed him. "I know you will be. I'm going to stand on the porch and watch you."

He let out an exasperated breath that sounded like it belonged to a teenager, and escaped before she could comment on it. Hermione remained leaned against the railing, watching her son as he briskly walked down the sidewalk. When he reached the porch, a board cracked and he hopped away from it, shooting a shocked look towards her.

She chuckled. "So he was serious about the porch."

Scorpius knocked and the door swung open seconds later revealing Draco. There was a short conversation, a few words exchanged as Draco knelt down to Scorpius' eye level and took the plate.

Her heart clenched with an all too familiar feeling as Scorpius beamed, laughing when Draco ruffled his hair. When Draco glanced up, and saw her, he gave a small wave.

Scorpius jumped off the porch, pointing at the faulty board, and Draco shot her a knowing look from across the way.

And while Draco didn't walk Scorpius home—likely because of her teasing reaction previously—neither of them moved from their porches until Scorpius was safe inside her home.

* * *

Hermione pulled the blanket over Scorpius and dropped a kiss to his forehead. "I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Mum?" His fingers wrapped around her wrist. "I really like Draco."

"Do you now?"

"He's nice, and his hair is just like mine," Scorpius murmured sleepily, sinking into his bed. "Can we see him again?"

Hermione had kept their weekend plans to herself, knowing he would get a second wind of energy if she told him now. "Oh, I'm sure we'll see him plenty. He's our neighbour now." She left the nightlight on and the door open a crack so the hallway light could trickle through.

And she didn't think about how she was eager to see someone she doesn't know again.

* * *

Beyond a few chances, Hermione didn't see her new neighbour over the next three days. There was a glance here and there, mostly in the early mornings when she checked the post, or late in the evening when he was making his way home.

On Saturday, she opened the door with a cup of coffee in hand, and found a note sticking out from under her doormat. Careful to not slosh piping hot liquid on herself, Hermine knelt down to turn it over. Her name was scrawled across the front of a folded sheet of paper. Straightening, she flipped it open while tipping her mug to her lips.

_Hermione, _

_I'm sorry to cancel like this, but I had to return to England for a family emergency. If you're still open to helping me next week—whenever you're available—I promise to make it up to you for rescheduling. _

_D.M. _

Pressing the letter to her chest, she didn't flinch despite the crash behind her. Scorpius called out that he'd dropped a toy from the table, and she nodded to no one. It was ridiculous to be disappointed, but adult interaction was so hard to come by, and Draco was so pleasant to be around.

Granted, she'd spent all of thirty minutes in his presence, but she'd figured that much out for herself already. "Scorpius, eat your breakfast, and wait here for a moment, okay?"

While colouring in a picture at the table, he nodded.

Hermione jotted a quick note to leave on Draco's door, but paused as she took an exaggerated step over the false board. His yard truly was a travesty and paint was already peeling off the fence.

_Getting a head start wouldn't hurt anything. _

* * *

**I'd really love to hear what you think of this chapter! Until next week! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Another week, another update. Writing wise, I'm wrapping up chapter eleven tonight. This might be the first time ever I manage to stick with weekly updates if I didn't just jinx myself. Thank you to everyone who returns to read. **

**Thank you to mcal for being a rockstar cheerleader and to dreamsofdramione for being a killer beta. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own. **

* * *

There was a reason Draco didn't tell his mother and father about his sudden relocation. Not that it mattered now. Mother had sent an owl in the middle of the night, pecking incessantly until Draco rolled out of bed. His hair was dishevelled, sticking in all directions, and as his feet met the chilly floor, the first thought he had was the same as all the others over the last two weeks.

_She's alive—and also three doors down from me. _

There was an overwhelming urge to check on her, just to reassure himself that her chest was still rising and falling with each shallow breath, but a look at the muggle alarm clock revealed it was three in the morning. He ruled that thought out, stomping on it for good measure. It was enough that she already thought him a little odd for walking her a few steps—and silently, he couldn't deny it was due to his desire to be closer to her in any fashion—and if she were to see him peering through a window, the fallout would be horrible.

Honestly, it was a long-winded train of thought that was useless, and Draco heaved a sigh as he pushed away from the bed. Flicking the latch open, it gave way and fell to the wood floor with a clatter.

Draco shook his head.

Lindy unfurled her feathers and stretched one leg over the windowsill. Blinking, she held out the missive strapped to her leg.

Draco skimmed it, not particularly interested in reading his mother's rant that he was sure to hear in person soon enough. Her elegant script revealed he was due home immediately for what she'd fashioned as a family emergency, or she'd send someone to bring him home. It wasn't a bluff he wanted to call, and refusing would only make more of a scene.

Regardless of how tarnished the Malfoy name was, it wasn't worth risking either of his parents digging until they discovered that he was in Scotland on paper, and not in reality.

"Fuck." He dragged a hand tiredly down his face and ripped the letter into pieces, discarding it in the bin. Lindy perched on his shelf and cocked her head to the side. "What? Did Mother tell you to wait for a reply? If so, you'll be waiting for a while," Draco hissed.

He dressed quickly, ripping a jumper his mother will disapprove of over his head, and snatching a portkey he'd stashed in the bedside table. It came with strict instructions via Robards to only be used in a pinch, but Draco supposed he'd just front the bill for the replacement. If he was lucky, his boss wouldn't even notice the expense report.

* * *

The sitting room was identical to the one he had avoided since the end of the war. The floor still squeaked beneath his boots, and even though it was ivory—scarlet flashed across it when he looked down.

"Mother, father," he greeted. Both of them were seated in the study. His mother's shoulders were tense, her legs crossed demurely at the ankle, and her hands clasped in her lap. "To what do I owe this ridiculous waste of my time?" There was a time, not long past, when he would have never spoken to either of them like that.

Narcissa shifted her weight evenly, her eyes narrowing, but it was Lucius who had the visible reaction. Eyes darkening, he stood from behind the desk and crossed the room slowly. "Why is it," Lucius paused, closing his hands together behind his back as he paced a slow circle, "that I heard you were out of the country from an intern?"

Draco chuckled and shook his head. "I'd hazard a guess that she was the only one who didn't know to break the other way when she saw you. My travels are my own business."

There was a low, disapproving sound under his father's breath. "I've allowed you to—"

"You've allowed this family to fall into disgrace," Draco cut him off, glaring as he faced Lucius. "All I've done is work to repair the damage you willfully caused—not once but twice."

Narcissa gave a short little gasp as she shot to her feet. "Draco, we know what you've done for our family, but to work as an Auror? Don't you feel that's beneath you?" Her fingers wrapped around his forearms, and she steered his gaze onto her instead of Lucius. "It's been four years of this, and it's time to focus on _family._"

Dread coiled in his stomach. He'd known it was coming, the letter had all but spelled it out for him, but there was the resounding thought that his _family _was thousands of miles away. And he couldn't reveal that. Blood prejudice was still very much alive, and if his father learned his only grandson was a half-blood, part muggle, Draco didn't want to imagine what would come next.

"I'm an Auror," Draco said, looking to his father over her shoulder. "I'm going to remain an Auror until I see fit to retire myself."

His mother fussed over him, shiny curls bouncing as she shook her head. "Marriage is a full-time job."

"I'm not married." He groaned. He wondered if he could Apparate out, but they had probably keyed the wards to prevent that.

Lucius cleared his throat and his fingers flexed around the head of his cane. "You're expected to be married by your next birthday, Draco. Should you fail to do so, there will be consequences."

The way Lucius' nostrils flared when Draco scoffed was satisfying. "I'm not going to search for a wife by next year and that's all I'll say on the matter."

"Then," his mother's nails dug into his arm as she pasted a smile onto her face, "you'll marry a witch of our choosing. Times are changing more than ever, and it's important to keep—"

Having a son out of wedlock would put him out of the running for any potential matches with witches his parents deemed acceptable. The truth was on the tip of his tongue, beneficial to no one but him, so he swallowed hard instead. "Have you forgotten that I'm the head of our house? If you believe you can force this decision on me, I assure you that you're wrong."

He pivoted away with a shake of his head as he made his way towards the Floo.

"This conversation isn't over, Draco. Don't you dare take one more step." Lucius' voice cut through the air, cracking like a whip.

With a shrug, Draco gave a rude wave of his hand. "This conversation _is _over."

Narcissa's lower lip wobbled as she hurried after him, but his father caught her harshly by the shoulder before she could fling herself into the fireplace. "Draco, _please_." She elbowed Lucius directly in the gut and rushed to her son. "You're insisting on going down a path I'll be unable to protect you from."

Lucius' lower lip curled. "Leave him, Cissa."

She murmured his name, holding his hand tightly in hers. "Just a few meetings with other families is all I'm asking."

Draco dropped her hands and watched her face fall with a slow pang in his chest. "Then you're asking too much." He called out for his flat with Potter, and the last thing he saw was his father hurl his cane across the room.

* * *

He holed himself up in the flat with Potter plus Weaslette. It was probably not ideal for any of them given how it started: with a clear view of her legs over Potter's shoulders while he fucked her on the sofa. Draco had excused himself, tightly clamping a hand down over his eyes as he felt his way to the loo.

"So, you've talked to her then?" Harry wondered out loud. "Ginny's already left. She said the sight of your pointy face ruined the mood."

Shovelling curry into his mouth, Draco shook his head. "Granger's more friendly than she was at Hogwarts, that's for certain."

Harry sat across from him, unboxing his food. "Well, she broke your nose in school, so I'd hope she's more friendly now. You're not going to show up here again, are you?"

"My name is still on the note, you fucking prat."

"You know that's not why I'm asking."

Draco sighed. "No, this won't be a habit. My mother sent an owl early this morning, and if I hadn't come, she would have caused a problem. I don't want either of them to learn where I am lest they learn why I'm there."

Nodding, Harry agreed. "Do you want to talk about what happened with your parents?"

His spoon fell to the table, and Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "No."

"Fair enough."

"But I'm sure it's going to become an ongoing problem, so I will anyway," Draco added. "They want to select a witch for me to wed by my birthday."

Potter choked, his hand flying to his throat as his eyes widened. "Merlin, you could have warned me!" He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "By March? That's not much time at all. We—why the _fuck_ did you just kick me?"

Chewing slowly, Draco glared at him. "My birthday is in June."

"You're angry I forgot your birthday?" His voice rose.

"All I'm saying is that I remember _yours,_" Draco muttered. "Nevermind, that doesn't matter. Do you know if Robards had my location redacted from public record?"

He shrugged. "I assume, but I'll check when I'm back at work and owl you the details."

"Yeah." Draco pushed his food around the bowl, unsure of what he wanted to say, and even less sure how to word it. "I saw Scorpius again before I saw Granger. He recognised me."

"That's good, yeah?"

"Yeah. Granger works in a bookstore." A smile curved his lips at the thought of Granger being perfectly in her element.

"Some things never change." Harry laughed.

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat, tapping his foot. "She came to talk to me, actually. Last night. The house I bought is a wreck, and I'm missing magic right about now, but she offered to help clean it up."

Potter's excitement didn't come anywhere near matching his own, but a grin spread across his face. "That's even better than we could have hoped for."

"And then I had to cancel on her because my parents want to marry me off to the first willing, Pureblood witch they see."

Face falling, Harry muttered, "I can see how that would be an issue."

"It will work itself out." Draco pushed his bowl away. "I need to ask you for a favor. Can you keep an ear to the ground for me? Lucius is going to do something."

"Of course. Any idea what I should watch out for?"

"Everything," Draco offered, unhelpfully. "And can you dig into Hermione's—"

Harry held up a hand, his fingers swooping through spell movements, and a file zipped into his open palm. "Robards has me investigating already since I'm down a partner. I think he's hoping you'll be back soon."

Right, because the world wasn't going to stop moving just because Draco's had. "I'll be gone for as long as it takes, but I worry Granger's memory loss doesn't begin and end with Bellatrix."

The colour drained from Harry's face. "Do you think she's in danger?"

The hair on the back of Draco's neck stood on end. "I can't be certain, but if she were, my presence around her would make anyone suspicious."

* * *

Late that night, Draco arranged for the first portkey to France. It would land him close enough to his house, but he'd have to Apparate the rest of the way. Reciting facts to himself, Draco made the short walk from the edge of town to his home.

No matter how far his reach spread, Lucius Malfoy was better known as a social pariah. Escaping by the skin of his neck during the trials after the war and landing himself probation for twenty years hadn't endeared him to anyone. Nor had the numerous contributions to the families of war victims. Even if his father could manage to find someone willing to dig around Ministry files, he wouldn't truly know much. Potter would make sure of that. For all their faults as children, and there were plenty on his end, Saint Potter had not let him down once in adulthood. And he wouldn't now.

It made him uneasy knowing Lucius wouldn't hesitate to send a wizard to track him down if he had the information. Robards' voice rattled in his skull about how pivotal it was to keep the discovery of Granger a secret.

Draco reached the end of the walk, kicking the toe of his boot against the sidewalk in frustration. Well past waking hours, he looked forlornly to Hermione's simple home. All of the lights were off but one that must have been in the sitting room. He imagined her curled up with a book resting in her lap as she propped her chin up with her other hand. She'd stubbornly insist to herself that she could stay up.

Or at least, that was what she'd done with him while bundled in a safe house away from the rest of the war. With her back pressed to his chest while he read over her shoulder, he'd murmur in her ear until she gave up on reading altogether.

"_Let me read just one more chapter of this before you try to shag me."_

Even as he dwelled on it, Draco knew those sorts of moments had been few and far between.

It had been war, and they had spent more time apart than together due to the hunt, but the time they'd shared…

He gulped and the weight of the memories he'd buried so deeply rushed up to meet him.

The distraction that was his yard came just in time. It looked much different than when he'd left. All the weeds that had taken over the cobblestone pathway and climbed the siding were gone. The debris from previous owners had been painstakingly picked up, and bundled in large bags for disposal. Even the latch on the gate was fixed.

The shiny new latch led to the discovery that his fence had also been repainted. "Granger, when did you have time to sleep?" he whispered. Draco knelt down, running his fingers across something that caught his eye.

Scratchy handwriting stared back at him and he swiped his thumb across it once more: _Scorpius_. When did children learn to write their names? His penmanship was quite good for what Draco would expect, though it was a bit wobbly around the top of the _S_.

Despite the way his stomach lurched, pride swept through him. And then, the full extent of his misery broke through, squeezing tightly around his heart.

How much had he already missed?

How much would he continue to miss?

* * *

Hermione flipped through the logs, chewing absently on the end of her pen while reminding herself that it was an atrocious habit. The bell up front dinged as a customer entered the shop and Victoire called that she'd get them. At least Hermione would have time to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding the missing box of inventory.

"Is Hermione working today?" A distinctly British accent filled the air and Hermione sprung to her feet before she could worry about appearing over excited.

"She is," Victoire said. "Let me just—oh, here she is. Hermione, would you like me to look for that box?"

Covered in dust, and regretting her decision to emerge from the supply closet so quickly, Hermione nodded. "That would be great. Let me know if you need anything." She wiped her palms on her jeans. "You're back!" Her cheeks warmed at her sudden enthusiasm.

The corner of his mouth twitched. Leaned over the counter, Draco drew the attention of two young women on the other side of the shop. "You tended to my yard," he stated, tucking his fist below his chin while looking at her. "_And _painted my fence."

"I hope you're not upset. I didn't mean to overstep, and it was hardly any work at all," Hermione replied, tucking her palms into her back pockets. "You could just consider it a welcome to the neighborhood."

That statement awarded her a full smile. "Hardly any work at all?" he echoed. "You fixed that rotting board. I thought you told me you didn't have any carpentry skills?"

"I'm full of surprises." The claim rolled off her tongue easily, and the exchange quickly began to feel like flirting, a thought that cemented itself when Victoire giggled from behind the doorway. "I fixed it because I fell through it."

His lips parted and he chuckled. It was a low sound that caused her to lean over the counter, dragging one from her as well. "You did?"

"You don't believe me?" Hermione grinned. "I have a bruise to prove it. I'm just glad Scorpius wasn't the one to fall."

He nodded. "I appreciate it immensely. Really, it was so kind of you to volunteer your time even after I cancelled on you. But," he drawled as he dragged his finger across the glass countertop, "I wouldn't feel right if I didn't repay you. Can I take you to lunch?"

Her heart pounded even as she expected the question. "Yes." Hermione's response was enthusiastic, but she couldn't bring herself to care. "Vic, do you mind covering for me?" She missed the silent relief that crossed his face. "Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't even ask if you meant right now. You must be exhausted."

Draco shook his head. "Right now is perfect."

Her cheeks were hot as she nodded. "Let me wash my hands and I'll meet you outside?"

* * *

He'd been worried that this was moving _too_ fast. Only a handful of days in and he'd already asked her to lunch. Granted, it was under the guise of thanking her, but Draco didn't believe that she honestly believed that was all. She probably saw right through him, assuming it was an attempt to ask her on a date. Well, she certainly wasn't wrong.

Hermione stepped out of the shop, her hair loose around her shoulders, twisting down the length of her spine. Adjusting her handbag, she fell into step beside him. "You really don't have to treat me to lunch. That's not why I helped."

Of course it wasn't. It must've been because Granger was perfect no matter what life he met her in: war-torn or sleepy coastal town.

"It's my pleasure. Will your son be joining us?"

"Not today," Hermione replied, stepping out of her way to crush a leaf that crunched under her trainers. "He still gets upset when I visit for lunch but don't let him come back to the shop with me."

_How fucking endearing. _

"Speaking of, I saw he wrote his name on my fence. When did he learn to do that?"

She snorted. "When did he learn to write? Or when did he learn to draw on things that don't belong to him?" Granger tapped a finger against her chin. "Around the time he started walking. As for writing his name, that development was more recent. I think it might have been four months ago, but I can't remember very well. Isn't that terrible?" Hermione laughed nervously.

Draco meant to comment on that, to point out that she certainly wasn't terrible, but his hand brushed hers. The momentary contact caught him off guard, the warmth of her stirring memories—not the sort he should have been contemplating in public—to the front of his mind. Her body flush against his while his fingers trailed down her sides—

"Right here." Hermione's voice knocked him from his reverie and her fingers curled around his bicep as she tugged him into a small restaurant. "Two please."

The hostess plucked two menus from her podium and they slapped together as she gestured down the aisle. She took their drink orders while Hermione laid her handbag next to her, before leaving them alone.

Draco cleared his throat. "I don't think it's terrible. From what you told my partner and I, you had an accident. That's not your fault."

Hermione winced before she smiled and a stone sank in his stomach. "It's none of my business, but you mentioned family troubles…" She trailed off, looking apologetic for bringing it up.

"Nothing to worry about," Draco lied. "My mother and father are pushy and will lecture me about upholding the family name no matter my age. You understand, I'm sure." He'd been so eager to get the spotlight off of him, but regretted it when her face fell. _Fuck. Fuck. _How could he have forgotten?

"Not exactly," Hermione answered honestly, tapping her fingers. "I've searched in France and England. It seems as though Hermione Granger doesn't exist." She nibbled her lower lip, a nervous tick of hers that he remembered. "You don't have to listen to this. I know you probably feel obligated to ask; everyone does, but it's—"

Draco shook his head, internally hoping that a conversation could be just the thing to trigger her magic. "I'd like to hear about it, if you don't mind."

Her eyes widened, but he noticed that she seemed almost desperate for the opportunity to talk. He'd always been able to read her better than anyone else. _Merlin, has she been so isolated all these years that she was this excited to talk to a perfect stranger? _

_Maybe she remembers...no_.

The thought of Hermione alone as a single mother when she should have been with him made him violently angry. When he found out who had done this…

"I was found on the edge of the village, badly beaten and unconscious. Clara found me and brought me to a hospital. She watches Scorpius now when I'm at work. She was there for me throughout my pregnancy and recovery. Even the birth." She swallowed.

_That was supposed to be me there with you. _

"I just appeared out of nowhere. When I woke up, I didn't know the year, but I knew my name. It was the only thing. When they told me I was pregnant, well, you can probably imagine my shock," Hermione uttered softly. "I still don't understand it. Surely someone, somewhere in the world knows who I am."

He wanted to reach for her, to pull her into him, but she didn't know him. And if he was really honest, which he hated to admit, he didn't know this version of Hermione either. "It must have been difficult," he whispered, his voice so low that she leaned toward him to hear. It was all he could imagine: Hermione in a hospital room giving birth to their son when he hadn't been there to hold her hand.

"I stayed in an assisted living program during my pregnancy. The village, bless them, they banded around me. All of these people who didn't know me at all pulled together to raise money. They helped me get on my feet. It's more than I could have ever asked for." Hermione sucked in a breath. "I wondered where the father was—well, I still wonder where he is." She carded her fingers through her hair. "I wonder if he's the reason I don't remember, or if he knows that he has a son. God, I'm babbling my entire life story. Thank you for listening, but I promise that I'm done now."

He realised just how far he'd been leaning forward when the waitress arrived with their drinks. "I don't mind. You're a very kind person, Hermione, so someone ought to be that for you as well. If you ever need to," he took a long swallow, "talk, I'll be around."

She grinned. "Are you this nice to every stranger you meet?"

_Just the pretty one_s, was on the tip of his tongue, but that was wrong. "Just the ones that tend to my yard." He snorted.

"How much work is left to be done on the inside?"

Draco groaned and her laugh echoed around their corner of the restaurant. "M-God, so much. You didn't tell me it was such a fixer-upper when we met."

"You didn't view it first?"

Fuck, that _would _be odd to her. "I viewed pictures, but the move was sprung on me rather quickly."

"What do you do?"

He answered that he worked as a consultant for the local police, and was utterly unsurprised when she thought of several questions to ask him after that.

* * *

**While my favorite part of this chapter was Hermione eagerness to see Draco, the Draco & Harry brotp was a very close second. Four chapters down, sixteen to go! Let me know what you think if you please, here in the comments or on anon (or not) in my askbox on tumblr at mrsren96. **

**The next update will be Christmas Eve, granted it's ready! If I miss it, it'll be up shortly after the holiday. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, guys. This update is coming to you a few hours before Tuesday (at least in my timezone) because I"m going to be so busy tomorrow on Christmas Eve. Thank you again for all of your repeated support through each chapter. Each review makes me so happy, and certainly motivates me to keep writing so I can maintain my weekly updates. There's plenty of Draco/Hermione interaction in this chapter, as well as Scorpius right along side them! (I know a lot of you asked to see him again.) **

**Endless love to mcal and dreamsofdramione for being a wicked alpha/beta team, and for putting up with my meltdowns. **

* * *

Hermione woke hours before she meant to. Propped up against the headboard, she glanced at the alarm clock, and bright red numbers told her it was far too early to be awake. Moonlight bled through the curtains, and she could make out the outline of Crooks, all the way to his bushy tail, in the windowsill.

She ought to get as much sleep as possible in case the inside of Draco's home was as messy as the outside.

A sigh fell away from her. She certainly wasn't going to get any sleep if he was on her mind. As unlike her as it was to be so interested in a stranger, she found she couldn't help it. Draco was fascinating, polite, and over lunch, he'd proved that he wasn't bad company either.

Clara's words revisited her just to haunt her, and she groaned under her breath.

As a grown woman, it wouldn't do to be hung up on his looks, regardless of how _nice_ they might be. Hermione sniggered, muffling the sound with the back of her hand because Scorpius was just down the corridor. Nice truly didn't begin to cover it.

It would be a mistake, irresponsible even, to become infatuated with someone she didn't know. It would be even more of a mistake to allow her son to become absolutely engrossed with said stranger—_Draco, his name is Draco, her subconscious urged—_because it would crush him if Draco turned out to not be a good person.

Even though Hermione thought she was quite the judge of character, she reminded herself of what could happen if she was too trusting. For instance, she still didn't understand how she had ended up in the town five years earlier. _Broken bones_, her medical records said, but _broken _was underlined three times. She'd been left for dead if the whispers were anything to go by.

Had it happened because she'd been too trusting?

Hermione started the morning by throwing off the blankets, and padding across the bedroom. Passing her dresser, she paused to smile at a photograph of Scorpius waving from the top of the hill near their home. The same hill she usually found him on whenever he took off on one of his adventures.

Living in such a small town had its perks, and Scorpius being able to explore the fields near their home was one of her favorites. How could it not be when it meant she was gifted flowers by her favorite person multiple times a week?

Now that she thought of it, even though she stressed internally that it was just a coincidence, that field was where Scorpius had come across Draco and his partner. She couldn't recall the dark-haired one's name she , but she remembered bright green eyes that seemed to harden when she spoke.

_That's just your paranoia, _Hermione reassured herself. It was a nasty habit to have—being so overly cautious about everything and everyone she came across—but it was impossible to curb when she looked for _something_ in everyone she saw.

It was absurd, perhaps borderline insane, but Hermione had never been able to stop after leaving the assisted living facility. She'd moved into her own home where everything had its place—everything but _her._

Somewhere in the world, mostly like in England, someone knew who she was.

They knew her name, and her age, and her favorite colour. Did they miss her? Did they think of her on certain dates as she did. Did they imagine a blur shaped like a person when the holidays passed each year? It was enough to drive anyone spare as she waited for someone to refresh her muddled memory.

No one had ever made her stop and wonder if she'd known them before all of this.

Until Scorpius bounded home with two men in tow, one whose hair matched his down to the smallest detail. And she knew that because she had scrutinised that particular fact as he strode away from her home, hands tucked into his trousers. Until, she thought as she stepped beneath a steady stream of warm water, Draco had moved down the street.

Each time she saw him, it made her mind itch, an odd description, but there it was nonetheless.

She considered it as water rolled down her skin, dipping between her breasts as she scrubbed her shoulders. Sure, it was true—undeniably so—that she'd been looking for something. And it _might _be true, however unreasonable, that a part of her she didn't recognise flickered to life with each meeting.

It had to be because he was kind and attractive—or perhaps it was because his hair resembled her son's, a shade of white-blond that she'd never seen before. It might be common, but it didn't stop her thoughts from latching onto the most unreasonable explanation of them all.

Bracing her forehead against the tiled wall, Hermione exhaled slowly.

_No. _

Her thoughts swam as her temples began to throb in the onset of an early headache. If she was lucky, taking aspirin before it got any worse would ensure it wouldn't put an end to the day before it could begin.

* * *

By the time Hermione finished pulling herself from bed, showering, and dressing in clothes she wouldn't mind ruining, Scorpius had taken it upon himself to make both of them cereal. "Mum, hurry up."

Arching an eyebrow, she handed him a spoon. "Draco will still be there even if you take time to actually chew your breakfast."

He shot her a withering look that he hadn't learned from her and shook his head. "You took _forever_."

"Excuse me for wanting to be clean," Hermione muttered into the bowl. "Do you remember what we talked about, Scorpius?"

He chased a purple pebble through the milk as he nodded. "I need to mind my manners."

"And?"

His lower lip stood out as he pouted. "I'm not supposed to write my name on things that aren't mine."

Hermione combed through his hair with her fingers, a smile forming already. "Thank you. It will be different this time since Draco's inviting us in. But we're still guests, okay?"

Scorpius released an exasperated sigh that should have been reserved solely for teenagers, not five year olds on the cusp of six. _Six in four months, thank you,_ he was always quick to say when asked. "Yes mum."

She lifted an eyebrow.

He turned back to his milk and had the courtesy to wait to roll his eyes until she looked away.

* * *

Draco met them on the porch, his foot poised comically over the spot where she'd fallen through. As he watched her gaze drop to it, a smirk tilted his lips. "It's steady," he called, knocking the toe of his boot against it. "I promise you won't fall through again."

She snorted softly, pretending to brush hair from her face in an attempt to muffle the sound. "That's good. It wasn't much fun the first time. Any hazards on the inside I should know about?"

He chewed his lower lip, causing it to turn a flush pink as he gnawed at it. "There was a pretty wicked spider in the kitchen earlier."

Scorpius climbed the steps two at a time, stretching his legs as far as they could go while Hermione could only shake her head. "Did you kill it?"

"I put him outside."

"Him?" Scorpius echoed, craning his head back. "How do you know it was a boy?"

The banister was solid behind her back as she rested her weight on it, watching Draco's smirk slip away. "You know, I didn't think to ask him. Would you like to ask him yourself?"

Scorpius' eyes shot open in surprise and he fervently shook his head. "_What? _No, that's mental!"

"Scorpius!" Hermione laughed. "It was very nice of Draco to put the spider outside instead of killing it."

"So you'll start putting them outside?" he challenged, putting his hands on his hips. The image was too close to how she looked, and Hermione was nowhere near ready for that yet. "You're not going to kill them?"

A loud snigger filled the air. "They're more afraid of you than you are of them," Draco offered.

Shaking his head, Scorpius said, "I don't know. The spiders never scream like Mummy."

"I don't…" Hermione shifted. "I don't scream _that _loudly."

"But MissClara always hears! You beat one with a broom."

Her features twisted into a sheepish expression, and Hermione couldn't find her footing to deny the claim.

Amusement was plain on Draco's face as he pursed his lips together, trying his best not to laugh. "Did you kill it?"

"She—"

"Eventually," Hermione begrudgingly admitted. "It might have taken a bit at first since all I did was fling the spider across the room."

The tip of his tongue slid against the seam of his lips, a movement that was terribly distracting. "That's—" He sighed, and laughter was evident in his tone. "I can see how that would be a problem."

She nodded. "Right then. So, if we come across any spiders, you'll take care of them? For payment since we're helping you tidy up."

"Might be for the best." Draco laughed, pressing his palm flat against the door and letting it swing open. "You can probably understand why I won't be giving you a broom."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm resourceful."

Hermione didn't notice the dark look that swept across his face.

* * *

From the moment she'd stepped inside, her feet barely over the threshold, she'd wanted to take several steps backward. Tidying up did not even begin to cover the state of the house.

He grimaced. "I have to admit, I'm mostly useless, but any heavy lifting…"

Hermione nodded, laughing under her breath. "There's nothing to cleaning. You'll get the hang of it."

Scorpius sucked in a breath too close to a cupboard and choked on the dust particles that floated in front of him. "This place is a dump."

"Scorpius, did you forget what we talked about?"

Light pink dusted his pale cheeks. "I'm sorry I called your house a dump, Draco." The apology sounded anything but genuine, but neither of them could stop themselves from laughing.

"Not to undermine your mother, but you're not wrong. It's a dump."

"If we're all in agreement," Hermione began, eyeing the horrid, stained windows in the kitchen that she could see from there.

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Are we all in agreement?"

She blinked twice. "Oh, no, I'm not going to call your house a dump."

"You'll just think it?" The corner of his mouth twitched.

Her chest was light. Not that it had been heavy in the first place, but she wasn't blind to the way Draco affected her. "I never said that either." She smirked. "How do you want to do this? You can take one room and I'll take another?" She crossed the room, floorboards creaking loudly as she peeked at the kitchen. "Nevermind. Maybe we should just work together."

A thick layer of dust covered everything, and it was obvious that Draco hadn't set foot in his kitchen to cook. Bags from a local restaurant peeked out from the trash, and she wondered out loud, "Have you been eating takeaway every night?"

He unbuttoned the bottom of his sleeves, rolling them up, and exposing defined forearms that caused her eyes to linger a little longer than appropriate. He didn't notice.

Draco nodded, sliding fingers through his hair while he watched Scorpius. Eager to start, he'd already knicked a rag and started wiping down the counters. He spluttered as dust flew up, and pulled the collar of his shirt up over his nose.

"Well, you fed me once. I haven't gone shopping at all. It's been hectic with work and moving."

"Not to mention flying back to England almost as soon as you got here," Hermione added, hoping she wasn't overstepping any boundaries by bringing attention to his family again. "If you need anything, you let me know. Really, if you're so busy with work that you can't properly feed yourself…"

She set to cleaning behind Scorpius as he went, taking care to wipe the long streaks of dirt and grime he left in his wake.

"I can't reach the back," he muttered.

Laughing, she said that she knew that. While tall for his age, the counters were still too high for him. "Could you get the top of the cupboards and inside them? I can reach the lower shelves easily enough."

Draco turned away with a short dip of his head.

While Draco and Scorpius made idle chatter, she wondered why she was so willing to help him at every turn. She had an idea, and it had something to do with the way his forearms looked as veins stood out from pale skin.

* * *

Half an hour into cleaning, Hermione couldn't stop sneezing uncontrollably. In fact, she couldn't even do any cleaning because of it.

"Mum?" Scorpius giggled. "You're broken!"

Laughing while sneezing was an odd experience, and after it happened once, she endeavoured to not let it happen again. "Just—" sneeze—"the dust," Hermione managed, pressing the tissue Draco handed her to her nose. "It's too much."

He didn't laugh, though Draco appeared to be on the edge of it. "Let me take care of the dust. The sitting room isn't so bad if you'd like to have a seat."

She took him up on the offer, but didn't bother with sitting down. Honestly, she hoped he was planning to buy more furniture than the lone leather recliner that was angled in front of the fireplace. Folding her arms over her chest, she paused at the mantle, and reached for a photograph sitting there.

There was a cluster of frames actually, each more intriguing than the last. She shouldn't be so nosy, especially not after she'd reminded Scorpius more than once that they were guests, but as the edge of the frame met her fingers, Hermione was intent on breaking her own rules.

Draco was on the right of the three, and she recognised the man in the middle as the one she'd met. His hair stuck out in all directions, tousled as if he spent a good chunk of his time digging his fingers into it, and she realised that this must be what he always looked like. There was a third man to the far left.

Her thumb slid over his face, pressed against cool glass. He had red hair, and the freckles to match, dotting across the bridge of his nose in an endearing way. The three of them were seated in a pub from the looks of it, and Draco's fingers were wrapped around a glass—filled with what she imagined was whiskey—as he brought it toward his mouth.

He looked miserable. She wondered why he kept the picture when his lips were tugged down into a frown and his shoulders were tense. Running a finger over him, Hermione's head tilted to the side. The background was dimly lit, and there was something slim laying on the counter in front of him. In fact, it almost looked like a stick, but that was—

"Find something interesting?" She hadn't heard him enter the room, much less come to stand right behind her. Draco grinned as a loud squeak burst forth from her lips.

The frame slipped out of her grasp when she jumped—

And landed in his hand as it shot out. "No worries," he murmured, and she thought he must have seen the panic on her face.

As bad as she would have felt for breaking something, she was more embarrassed to be caught snooping. "I'm sorry. My curiosity got the best of me."

He shook his head. "I don't mind. You looked deep in thought. What were you thinking about?"

Could she be honest? "You look sad," Hermione said quietly. "But you're with friends, and I wondered why."

His shoulders stiffened and a pang of regret wormed its way into her chest. "You're right. I was upset this night."

It wasn't her place to ask, but it seemed she'd lost all semblance of self control. "Why? You don't have to answer that, if you don't want to."

"I don't mind." Draco set the photo back on the mantle just in front of them. "I had a girlfriend when I was eighteen and she went missing. Foul play was confirmed, but she's never been found." He breathed unevenly, reaching back to rub the back of his neck. "It was the day she died."

Air rushed from her lungs. "Oh, Draco," she murmured. "I'm so sorry." Her fingers moved of their own volition—she would have _sworn _it wasn't by her own choice—and tangled with his as they rested at his side. "That's horrible. I'm so sorry."

He squeezed her fingers and warmth spread through her. "Thank you. I wanted to spend the night wallowing in self pity, but they didn't let me this year. They've tried every year to—suffice to say they succeeded this year."

"You must have truly loved her."

"I did—_I do._ I haven't quite accepted it yet, but I'm working on that now."

Looking around, Hermione spotted Scorpius sitting on the floor, drumming his fingers against his legs. "Is that why you moved here?"

"Yes," he admitted. "There are too many memories of her when I'm home. Not that I want to forget her. I've worried that it's been long enough that I shouldn't look for her anymore, or miss her, or—"

Without a second thought, Hermione slid her arms around his middle and tugged him into a tight hug. She probably would have ripped away from him in her own embarrassment, but her cheeks were warm.

It helped, she thought, that he didn't hesitate either. Strong arms slid around her, his fingers fidgeting with her hair as the other hand flattened against the middle of her back.

"If anyone tells you that it's been long enough, they're quite wrong. Only you can be the judge of that. It's not their business anyway." Hermione gathered her wits and stepped away. She was pleased to see a genuine smile on his lips. "I'm sorry that she's gone, and I wish you could find her." Hermione wasn't sure if it was the right thing to say because it exposed her doubt that he could, but five years _was _such a long time.

"I notice her in things, and I realise this is more information than you asked for, but I see her in people, too. She'd have liked you."

Her eyes widened. "Oh?"

He laughed quietly. "Yeah, she would have."

Laying a hand against his forearm, Hermione smiled. "You'll have to tell me about her some time. As it is now, Scorpius is going to lose his mind if we keep him waiting much longer."

"Wouldn't want that."

* * *

After the dust was dealt with, Scorpius wasn't sure how to help. He wiped down the counters three more times before sighing. Hermione sat on her knees while balanced on the counter, cleaning out the cupboards.

"Mum?" He tugged the hem of her jeans. "Can't I do something to help?"

She slid off of the counter and pulled open drawers until she found a rag that matched the one he already had. "Sit down, love." Hermione knelt down, and wrapped the rags around his trainers, plucking the elastic from her hair to tie one around it. Then she pulled one from her wrist and did the same. "There you go." She patted his foot. "Now you can clean the floor."

Within moments, Scorpius realised he could skate around the room as well, and he abandoned the thought of sweeping altogether.

Draco looked to her in awe and she giggled. "What? He's easily entertained, and you'll get a mostly clean floor at the same time."

* * *

At the end of the day, they weren't done.

The day hadn't been unenjoyable, however. Scorpius spent most of it weaving in between Hermione, Draco, and the island in the middle of the room as he slid across the floor. Hermione hummed as she scrubbed grime, and noticed that Draco was watching from the counter of her eye.

She hummed a little louder then.

"So," Hermione began, watching as Scorpius jumped off the porch.

"Mum, can we come back?" There was dirt on the tip of his nose and dusting his cheeks. "Draco, can we come back?"

They looked at each other and Hermione laughed. "Look, there's Crooks. Why don't you play with him while I talk to Draco?"

Scorpius went to Crooks, who had just snuck into the yard by squeezing himself through the gaps in the fence.

Hermione pulled her jacket tighter around herself. "I don't want us to invite ourselves into your home, but if you'd like more help, I'd be happy to do so."

He sighed. "Please. I'm utterly helpless, as you can see."

"You are. When you said you couldn't clean, I was skeptical, but you clearly were not fooling anyone, even yourself."

Grey eyes brightened and he snorted. "The polite thing to do would have been to reassure me that I'm not nearly as bad as I think."

"Oh?" Hermione pretended to contemplate that, leaning so the railing braced her back. "But lying isn't polite."

Draco's gaze sharpened. "You're a cruel woman, Granger."

Her headache returned, blooming to life as pain shot through her head. Choosing to focus on the way her surname rolled off his tongue, Hermione grinned. "I don't know if you'd be interested, but I have dinner already made at home if you'd like to join us. It'll only take a moment to heat up." A second passed, not long enough for him to answer, but Hermione added, "Just so you know, I know the grocery has already closed. That restaurant, too."

"I'd like that. If you don't mind."

"Not at all. You're welcome anytime." Hermione watched as Crooks trotted up the stairs, tail swishing as he walked between Draco's leg. "He hates strangers," she mused.

Kneeling down to scratch the top of his head, and then his belly when he rolled onto his back, Draco shrugged.

"That's his favorite spot," Scorpius said as he neared them. "You got lucky, Draco. The last man he met, he bit."

Oh yes, Hermione remembered that well. "Animals really are the best judge of character," she muttered, perhaps a little darker than intended. "Looks like you've passed the test then."

* * *

**I forgot about the content of this chapter until I reread it since it's been almost two months since I wrote it originally. Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to climb back down into my hole of reylo fics. (Please no TRoS spoilers; I've seen it, but fellow readers may have not) P.S. Am I writing a reylo 'muggle' au behind the scenes? Yes. Should I be? Mmm, debatable. **

**I hope that no matter what holiday you're celebrating this season, you have a great one! If you'd like to please review, I'd really love to have your comments as company! **


	6. Chapter 6

**This is the only time I'll be breaking my weekly update schedule unless I finish writing the story ahead of time. Since you won't get to read Christmas until late March/early April, I'm giving you this. **

**Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals. (And Happy Hannukah!) **

* * *

While cleaning was a good enough excuse to be around her for now, Draco was already contemplating how to keep it that way. Eventually they would finish, and there wouldn't be another reason. Except he'd noticed the way she shivered while wrapping her arms around him, noticed the way she chewed her lower lip as he rolled up his sleeves, and he'd noticed the slight widening of her eyes when the bottom of his shirt lifted.

He recognised it because he'd seen it all before. His seventh year had been cut short quickly, within two months of the term beginning. The horcrux hunt hadn't gone as planned—though he still had his doubts that there had ever been a solid plan in place at all—and Potter's foolishness had caused the three of them to be captured—and that had been the _first _time the three were captured.

Snape had come to him in the middle of the night, yanking him from his bed with a grim expression twisting his already sallow features. Draco had only heard part of what he'd said.

"_...do what we must, or everything we've done will be for nothing." _

Truthfully, he barely remembered that day. Grimmauld Place had been a terrible place to hide, but he'd caught them in the dense forest outside of Malfoy Manor, and he'd caused a large enough distraction to help them escape.

He'd Apparated Granger out first, and even now, he wasn't sure what that said about him. It had been a struggle to force her into it, having to cage her against him until they landed in Shell Cottage and she stared at him in disbelief. "_You'll be safe here. Just stay in the wards."_ Then he'd gotten Potter and Weasley.

His status amongst the Death Eaters had spread throughout the ranks, turning from a slight ripple into a wave that went all the way to the top of the hierarchy. Dumbledore's offer to help in sixth year had not gone ignored as he'd implied. There wasn't meant to be a time when he visibly defected, but it had happened, and he'd come face to face with Granger in a drafty corridor of Shell Cottage.

"_Fiendfyre is dangerous. How did you control it?" she murmured, and he didn't want to think of the heat that had swallowed the forest. _

It was strange to pick the exact moment his infatuation with her had begun. Who was to say it wasn't during third year when she broke his nose, or during fourth year when she was draped in blue hues at the Yule Ball? Was it the moment he'd seen her wrapped in a pretty dress during Slughorn's party?

His knuckles knocked against the table as he slammed his glass down and firewhisky burned his throat.

Granger wasn't the same woman he'd known before. She possessed no knowledge of magic, or Hogwarts, or the world she'd helped save.

Though, some things remained unchanged.

She bickered with him the same as she always had.

Hummed the same.

Giggled the same.

She felt the same when she was pressed against him.

Lifting the glass, he leaned back in the chair, and sighed quietly. Potter hadn't contacted him since he'd left their flat, but Draco knew he'd be calling soon enough. A thought randomly came to him, and he was surprised it hadn't occurred to him sooner. Gritting his teeth, he drained his glass and reached for his wand.

* * *

Hermione's week passed the same way it began: cleaning. It wasn't the worst way to spend her time. There was always takeaway sitting on the counter when she and Scorpius arrived—her son insisted that he be included—and there was _always _a sugary drink that he loved waiting for him.

She caught Draco's eye the first time, lifting a brow. "You're going to make him want to stay forever. I usually don't let him have those."

He blanched. "Shite, should I not have…"

Muffling her laugh as Scorpius bounded away from them, she shook her head. "It's alright. He doesn't get them often, so if you want to give him one, it's fine."

Closing up the shop early that Sunday, Hermione shouldered her bag and locked the door behind her. A brisk wind rolled through the street, messying her hair, and it reminded her that they were now easing into October.

Which, in turn, reminded her that she'd known Draco for a total of eight days.

As she made the short walk towards her home and the sitter's, Hermione considered what had been on her mind all along.

He was kind, thoughtful, and Draco seemed like the sort of person that would be good to have as a friend. Her anxiety threatened that, and it should never be so easy, but it was.

He'd eaten dinner with them, garnering Scorpius' attention without preamble, and the two of them had spoken more than she and Draco. They had spent so much time together already, Hermione supposed that meant she _would_ feel more comfortable.

Feeling awfully silly that she was still worrying about it, Hermione pushed it away as Scorpius ran out of Clara's home to meet her. Scooping him up in a big hug, Hermione peppered his cheeks with kisses.

"Mum!" he growled. The sour look vanished though as her lips thinned, and Scorpius pressed his hands against her cheeks harder than necessary and planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. "Are we going to Draco's now?"

She nodded, setting him on his feet, but only after swinging him around until he laughed. "Yes, love. Just give me a minute."

Clara's grey hair was pulled back into a neat bun, not quite tight enough to stretch her features. A wrap draped over her shoulders, and she pulled it closer around her frame as her gaze dropped to Scorpius. "Draco, hmm?"

Hermione laughed. "Yes, I've been helping him get settled."

"I'm helping, too." Scorpius nudged her. "All you two do is talk. _I_ cleaned the windows." Of course he would point that out.

"That's wonderful, dear." Clara smiled. "He's quite the neighbour. I saw him this morning. Do you know what he does?"

As her son grew more and more impatient, Hermione resisted the urge to grin. "He works with local law enforcement. I didn't ask what he does exactly, but he was a policeman in England."

Bundling Hermione's hands in hers, she grinned ear to ear, and it came across more mischievous than anything else. "I'm delighted to hear the two of you are getting on so well. Now, I know Scorpius is ready to go—"

He kicked the concrete idly.

Hermione returned the hug she found herself in with one arm, and patted the woman on the back. "We'll be by in the morning, but I'll be home Tuesday and Sunday."

"Scorpius is welcome any day of the week. You know that. If you need time to yourself, or… well, _you know_, just let me know!"

Pausing, Hermione's lips parted.

"What does 'you know' mean?"

Laughter echoed in the street as Clara leaned forward. "I meant dating, my dear," she whispered, her breath tickling Hermione's ear. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

* * *

Scorpius went straight to the kitchen after they stepped inside. "Draco?" There was a tinge of worry in his tone, something that shouldn't have been there for a child.

Hermione crossed the sitting room, registering the new furniture, but her stomach twisted so tightly that she couldn't even say what colour it was. She found Draco leaned over the kitchen island, his hands curled around the edge of the counter, and his fingers were a stark white. "Is everything alright?"

He cleared his throat, and gave a slight shake of his head. "Scorpius, would you mind if I spoke to your mum alone for a moment?"

Wide-eyed and concerned, Scorpius didn't budge from his spot. His small hands gripped the bright green bottle tightly. "Are you okay?"

The corner of Draco's mouth lifted, but gone was his characteristically cheerful demeanor.

Her stomach dropped.

"I'm okay." Draco nodded, crouching down to be at Scorpius' eye level. He rested his elbows on his knees as he did so. "It's just boring grown-up talk."

Scorpius lowered his hands, the plastic bottle coming to rest at his side. "Can I play outside?"

"Of course—" Hermione began.

"_No_." Draco cut her off, his voice harder than she'd ever heard it, not that she had much of anything to compare it to. But the force of it vibrated through her chest. "Maybe just play in the sitting room? I bought a telly."

Scorpius was gone with a grin before anything else could be said.

She folded her arms across her chest, eyes narrowing. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

His hip brushed the island as he stood, his back straightening, and he looked back toward where her son was sitting. All that could be seen from the side of the chair was a flash of blond. "I don't mean to undermine you," Draco said quietly. "What I'm about to tell you, is supposed to be classified."

Her brows knitted together, and she stepped toward the island, laying her hands against the cool surface. "I'm afraid you've lost me."

He swallowed, his throat constricting with the motion. "There was a murder, and the body was discovered today in a nearby town," Draco whispered, inching his hands across the counter as he leaned towards her. "I'd just learned before you got here."

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, that's terrible." Craning her head back to get another look at Scorpius, just to be sure he was still _there_, a wave of understanding crested. "This is why you were so quick to say he shouldn't play outside?"

"Yes."

"I see." A chill danced along her spine as she peered at him. "Is it anyone you think I would know?"

Call it a small blessing, but he shook his head. "I doubt it, though they were from here originally. However, she lived in a different area, and—"

Scorpius padded into the room to take a snack from the counter, and made his way back to the sitting room.

"He's really made himself at home here." Hermione snorted.

The plastic crackled from the other room.

Draco's smile was barely there, but it wasn't the genuine one she was used to. "It may not be my place, but I can't deny it regardless. You walk home from work normally, don't you?"

"I do." Hermione fidgeted with the decorative bowl—it had been her suggestion—as grey eyes sharpened. "Usually not in the dark, maybe once or twice a week if one of the girls can't make it. You're not worried about…?"

The silence was telling.

Hermione exhaled. "Whether it's your place to worry about us or not, I appreciate the thought. Beyond Clara, I can't imagine anyone else has worried about me in years. I'll be sure to be careful. I have pepper spray in a drawer at home that I've been meaning to put in my purse," Hermione continued to ramble.

In long strides, double the size of hers, Draco walked around the island, coming to a stop as he towered over her. "Hermione," he murmured, and she quieted. "At the risk of sounding like a prat, I truthfully don't like the idea of you walking home alone."

She sucked in a breath.

"I have no doubt that you can protect yourself."

"You would just feel better if you were there to watch over me?" Curiosity coloured her tone. "I don't need a big, strong man to protect me, Draco. I've done perfectly well on my own in a world I don't recognise. I'd feel terribly sorry for anyone who thought they could get the drop on me."

He chuckled. "I realise I sound like a sexist."

She nodded. "A self-aware sexist then, my favorite kind." Hermione wasn't angry that he worried, but she wished he'd have more faith that she could protect herself. "Tell me about it. What happened? Hypothetically, if it were _me_—"

Draco paled. "Please don't say that."

"It's a hypothetical situation." Hermione rolled her eyes. "If it were me, would I have been able to protect myself?"

The shake of his head was slow. "No, you wouldn't have been able to. I think you can do a lot of things, Granger, but this wouldn't be one of them."

She laced her fingers together. "You're not going to walk me home while it's daylight," Hermione stated matter of factly, leaving no room for argument. She had the suspicion that if she gave him an inch, he'd take a mile. "You can walk me home after my night shifts if you like. Don't feel obligated."

He grinned. "I'll take it. Thank you, even if it's just for my own peace of mind. After everything you've shared with me, I couldn't stand the thought of something as tragic as this happening to you."

Draco would have said that about anyone, Hermione thought, but the words sunk into her skin, sounding odd. She just couldn't put her finger on why.

Hermione turned, the edge of the counter digging into the bottom of her back, just above her arse. "Onto lighter subjects, we've finished cleaning. I don't even recognise this place now." His arm brushed hers as he stood beside her, but Hermione didn't dwell on it, though she was very much aware. "I'm still going to paint the cupboards."

"Can I treat you and Scorpius to dinner?"

Hermione's mouth dried. The answer on the tip of her tongue was an ecstatic, resounding _yes. _But that wouldn't do. Scorpius was already so attached to the only male figure he'd known for more than a day—God, that made her sound _terrible. _And she didn't want him to come to expect the same outings because they had done so once.

"No to going to a restaurant, but yes to dinner," Hermione said, watching his face fall just the tiniest bit. "I'd prefer to cook if that's alright with you."

"You're an excellent cook," Draco replied, angling himself toward her. "There's no doubt about that, but you've worked every single day this week—"

"I work in a bookshop." Hermione laughed lightly. "It's not hard labour."

His eyebrows shot up. "I would just like to get you off your feet is all. Are you going to argue with everything I say for as long as we know each other?"

The end of the statement sounded as if there was a definitive end for just how long they would know one another, and it made her stomach twist. There was no reason for that. Just a pair of strangers who were certainly more than that already, but there wasn't a need—

Smirking smugly, Hermione tilted her chin up. "I'll argue until you agree with me. Afterall, I've already conceded to let you walk me home. Which would you rather have: walking me home or taking me to dinner?"

He took another step, leaning down, and his eyes flicked towards the sitting room. Up close, she found that his eyes were much lighter, much prettier than she'd originally thought. "I'd like to do both, Hermione, and trust that I will. For now though, I'll let you win."

"Perfect," Hermione squeaked, and even though he gave no indication that he'd heard it, she knew that he had. As he left her in the kitchen to change his clothes, she stood perfectly still, wishing it would still her rapidly beating heart.

* * *

Scorpius talked around a mouthful of food, but that wasn't new. Just like the previous dinner, Draco remained interested, only interjecting when Scorpius needed a minute to catch his breath.

Endeared by him, Hermione quietly ate her food, watching the two of them intently. While it was incredibly cute how the pair of them got on, her mind was elsewhere. Since they'd had to reschedule dinner the night before due to Draco being called away—and judging from the dark look he'd cast her way, it had everything to do with the grisly murder—something had happened to cause her to enjoy this just a little bit less.

Draco had nothing to do with it directly.

She worked with a sweet girl, still in school that helped in the afternoons and on weekends. Anna had swept into the shop with a grin, and she'd played with Scorpius in the children's section. But later, Hermione had overheard a conversation she wished she hadn't through the gaps of the shelves.

Their new neighbor had been all Scorpius could talk about for days, and this hadn't been an exception. He rambled on and on about Draco, until Anna asked, "_Is this Draco your father?" _

_Scorpius shut down, his eyes fluttering shut, and he shook his head. "I don't think so. Do you think so?" _

"_You said he has your hair—" _

Hermione had cut it short, her words falling from her tongue much sharper than intended as she pulled Anna away. In no uncertain terms, she'd made it blisteringly clear that it was an inappropriate subject to discuss with a child, and if the conversation needed to be had, Hermione would be the one to do so.

While Anna had apologised—repeatedly—Hermione had held up her hand. "Draco is not my son's father. They happen to have the same hair colour, which paternity does not make. If he mentions this to you again, I would appreciate you not encouraging it."

"Hermione?" Draco's hand nudged her knee, and she jumped.

Slamming her knee against the underside of the table, she watched as a saucer followed the movement before crashing, and splintering against the floor. "Sorry!" she said, and it was a touch too loud.

"Are you alright?"

It felt like he was always asking her that, and the answer was always 'no.'

She nodded. "Fine." Hermione rose from her chair, tossing her napkin onto the table. "Just a long day at the shop. You two keep talking, I'll just…" Hermione trailed off as she left the room, hurrying into the kitchen to fetch the broom. Wrapping her fingers tightly around the dustpan, she turned in a rush.

Draco's hands gripped the tops of her arms to steady her when she knocked into him. "Whoa."

She was perfectly steady, yet his hands still didn't fall away from her. Her tongue slid against the seam of her lips, and she thought he followed the movement, but it could have been her imagination. "I just needed to get—" She lifted the broom. "It wouldn't be the first time I've cut my foot open because—"

His thumb rubbed reassuringly against her bare skin before he let her go. "If tonight was a bad night, I'm sorry to intrude. Are you sure everything is alright? I only ask because you're normally so bright."

"Bright?" After looking around him to be sure Scorpius was still in one place, and not attempting to clean the glass like she knew he would, Hermione sighed. "It really just wasn't a good day at the shop. You don't have to worry about it."

He nodded. "Dinner was delicious. Thank you for having me."

It felt like she was standing at the precipice of something that truly terrified her. Hermione squashed the rising nerves in the pit of her stomach. "You're welcome anytime you like. Scorpius is utterly enamoured with you, and I'm—" She broke off as her bravery ran out. "I'm fond of you as well. You've probably noticed, but we don't get many visitors."

His face was partially hidden by the dim light of the kitchen, and she couldn't make out his expression in the dark. "Everyone else is missing out then," Draco murmured, his words floating between them. "You ought not tell me I'm always welcome. I might take advantage of that. Is that selfish?"

With her heart caught in her throat, Hermione shook her head. "You're free to be selfish."

Flashing her a smile, Draco gently pried the broom from her hands. "I'll be sure to do that then."

A handful of days, almost two weeks, Hermione's logic whispered, but she wasn't of the mind to care anymore.

* * *

Muggle police weren't any closer to discovering who had left the murdered girl in a ditch completely nude. Draco paced through the evidence room, lifting the edge of a box with the tip of his finger. Living like a muggle was tiring. There was no point in sorting through each file by hand, aside from the fact that the French Ministry would crash down on his head.

There was still a Dark Mark on his forearm, and the appearance of Morsmordre spoke louder than all of his combined efforts to erase it. The building was teeming with Muggles, and the clerk that ruled over the evidence was a shrew. He estimated that it wouldn't be longer than ten minutes before she cracked the door, stuck her head in, and asked if there was anything she could help him find. Even though the answer continued to be a resounding negative, she hadn't left him alone.

"Twenty-three," he murmured, flipping the file to the first page. Blonde hair, blue eyes, but from the photos, it was difficult to tell that she was blonde. She'd been beaten bloody, and covered in dark bruises that spread down her neck to where her collarbone was cracked below her skin…

He straightened, his head whipping around the room as he felt it. It was undeniably the wards that he'd created around Hermione's home, and a chill ran down his spine. Gritting his teeth, he slid his hand into his pocket, and his fingers closed around his wand.

It could be nothing, he knew, but the fact of the matter was that the wards wouldn't alert him to _nothing. _They were only for her safety, and if they were—

He glanced at the photo on the stainless steel table and swallowed.

Whatever it was, it wasn't nothing.

He Apparated with a loud crack that vibrated the room, sending the light fixture smashing against the floor and scattering papers. Draco was gone before the clerk opened the door to ask if he needed anything again.

* * *

**For the record, I didn't know this chapter ended on a cliffhanger until I read it this morning. I'm sorry, but also not sorry because I'm terrible. See ya on New Year's Eve! I hope you've all enjoyed the holidays if you celebrate, and that this may be a bright spot in your day. **

**Interact with me and ask questions here or in my ask box (you can stay anonymous) on tumblr at mrsren96!**


	7. Chapter 7

**It's still Tuesday here for two hours so I barely made the update in time. My life is a dumpster fire right now and will continue to be so for another month due to work. I wanted to say thank you so much for 400 reviews on FFN. I'm so fucking mind boggled when I look at it. And for my readers on AO3, I'm really behind on replying to comments due to the dumpster fire mentioned above. I'll get to them as soon as I can! **

**All my love to mcal and dreamsofdramione. **

* * *

He landed at the edge of the treeline behind his home and felt his own wards shift.

"What the fuck?" Draco hissed as he gripped his wand, though it remained in his pocket. As he neared his house—it was closest—he saw no outward signs of distress at Granger's.

But his own home—

Scorpius sat on his porch, but shot to his feet when he saw him. "Draco!" It was a scream that Draco didn't want to ever hear again. All fear, no child like enjoyment. Scorpius rushed towards him, fisting his hands in Draco's shirt. "Mummy needs help!"

"What is it?" Draco swung him up, turning in the direction of her home before he thought that he _shouldn't _take their son near the danger. "Scorpius, can you tell me what's wrong? Quickly?"

He rubbed his eyes, and wiped away stinging tears. "She forgets things!" he cried. "Mum left water on the stove and it caught on fire."

Panic shot through him, and he quickly set Scorpius down. "Stay here, do you understand?" Draco spoke in a rush, his words tangling together. "Don't come into the house for _any_ reason."

Small hands still covering his face, Scorpius nodded. "Be careful," he murmured.

"Yeah," Draco breathed, squatting down in front of him. "I'll be careful. I just need to get your mum safe, okay? I'll be right back." Without thinking, he pressed his lips to the top of Scorpius' head. "I'll be right back."

He latched the gate behind him just in case, but he didn't think it would deter Scorpius if he really wanted to come back inside. The moment he pushed the door open, he saw pungent smoke filtering out of the kitchen, skirting along the top of the ceiling. Rushing across the sitting room, he called out to her.

There was a crash. "_Draco_?" Crooks raced past him, his busy tail bristling as he escaped through the front door. "Draco, what are you doing here?"

He rounded the corner, and if the situation hadn't been so dire, he probably would have laughed. "What am _I _doing here? What are _you _doing here? The house is on fire!"

She rolled her eyes as she swatted the flames with a damp rag. "Yes, but it's my house, so I need to put out the fire."

"That rag isn't going to do anything," he hissed. "Granger, just let me—" The moment the scream escaped her, Draco feared Scorpius would leave his spot outside. Right in his ear, and dripping with fear, her scream made him nauseous.

A flamed licked out, almost catching her face, but Draco yanked her out of the way. Encircling one arm around her waist, she nuzzled his neck. It was a mistake, nothing more. After all, it wasn't the time to get caught up in her proximity.

Steering her towards the other side of the kitchen, Draco rummaged through the cupboards until he found a dingy bucket under the sink. "Stay over there. Don't come back over here, or so help me, I'll—"

Hermione put her hands up, a wry smile tilting her lips even as her eyes watered. "I'll stay right here."

He filled the bucket to the brim before drenching the stove. It took three more attempts to put the flames out. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. Raising his head, Draco raked his fingers through his hair. He would have made a joke, but the words died on his tongue. Her shoulders shook and her fingers trembled at her sides. She'd angled her body away from him, but he was willing to bet that if he turned her, he'd see tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Hermione," he whispered. Draco closed the gap between them, lifting her chin with his knuckle. "It's okay. You're safe and the fire is out."

She shook her head and wiped her face. "No, I almost caught my own house on fire. I'm lucky it was just the stove, but Scorpius—"

"Is completely safe," Draco finished, squeezing her hand. "Don't worry about that. He came straight to me. Almost gave me an early heart attack."

Her lips quirked up, but she didn't laugh. "It's lucky that you were here, but I'm not always going to be so lucky." Hermione glared at the stove. "It's pathetic that I'm so forgetful, but nothing can be done." Staring at the floor, she wouldn't meet his gaze, and he wondered how many other accidents there had been.

He couldn't ask her that, not at the present moment, but from her reaction, it seemed there had been many other incidents. And if he hadn't been certain that she was worth giving up everything—if it came to that—he was right then.

* * *

It had taken longer for her to calm down than she wanted to admit or even think about. Yet Draco had taken it in stride, smoothing a hand down her arm as the hair stood on end, which she would have blamed on the shock if he'd said anything. He asked her to wait while he took Scorpius to Clara's. Then they could clean up the kitchen.

When he returned, she learned that what he'd meant was that he would clean, and she would not. She'd sat on the opposite counter and watched as he attempted to scrub scorch marks that didn't go away. Clara brought Scorpius home half past eight, her eyes widening when Draco answered the door.

He slipped out with a quiet goodbye to her, accompanied by a wave, and Clara caught Hermione's eyes following him home through the sheer curtains that hung from above the window.

"Well," Clara drawled knowingly. "He's a sweetheart, isn't he?"

Scorpius ran up the stairs, claiming he wanted to change into his pajamas and pick his bedtime story. Even though he insisted that he was too old for them, and other children he met didn't let their mums read to them, Scorpius was always the first to leap at the routine.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I assume Scorpius told you what happened today?"

She nodded and patted Hermione's shoulder. "You poor dear, accidents are so easy to come by. It's not your fault."

Nodding, Hermione forced a smile. "He ran straight to Draco's house. I actually told him to run to you." She laughed.

"I did come to check on you," Clara continued, blowing her hair out of her face. "I got Scorpius settling with the telly—have I told you how much I hate that thing? Anyway, it was the only way to distract him, and it almost wasn't enough."

She snorted. He did enjoy cartoons perhaps a bit more than he should. "When did you come by?"

She waved her hand, drumming her fingers against Hermione's shoulder as a smug smile appeared on her face as if she knew something Hermione didn't. "Oh, yes," Clara sang, still smirking. "I did pop by, just to see how you were holding up. It's such a frightening ordeal to handle, but Draco seemed to have a rather good… _hold_ on you."

Her face drained of colour. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"Oh?" Clara prompted. "Let me remind you then. I'm not normally such a snoop—"

"That's a lie."

"Shush, it's impolite to interrupt your elders. Now, I might have peeked through the window beside the door. I couldn't see much due to the curtain, but unless there's another gorgeous blond man you've met—"

Hermione choked. "That's—"

"In which case, if you've met another blond that looks like that one, you'll need to introduce me. My husband's been dead for ten years, you know." A grin spread across her face and she rested her hand against the railing of the stairs. "I'm only teasing. The two of you were hugging. I assumed he was comforting you."

Heat claimed Hermione's face. They'd stood in the middle of the kitchen with her huddled close for quite some time, his hand smoothing against her back as he traced her spine slowly. "Scorpius wasn't with you, was he?"

Clara shook her head and strands slipped from her bun to frame her face. "He wasn't, but Hermione, I don't want to overstep..." She trailed off, casting a look up the stairs. "If you begin to care for Draco, that's perfectly alright. You've put your life on hold since the accident, and you've done a marvellous job raising Scorpius."

Hermione couldn't find the correct words to say. How was she meant to say she appreciated the advice, but didn't want it?

"What I mean to say is that you shouldn't pass up the chance to be happy." Clara squeezed her hand. "It's past my bedtime now, but do think about what I've said. Not every man would rush into a burning house for you."

The house hadn't been on fire. An explanation was on the tip of her tongue, but Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. The door clicked as it closed and Hermione turned the lock into place. Maybe the house hadn't been on fire, but a sense deeply situated in the pit of her stomach told her Draco would have done everything exactly the same if it had been.

* * *

Gnawing her lower lip days later, Hermione paced the length of her living room until she thought she would wear a hole in the floor. The options were cut and dry, and none of them were preferable. Clara had called just minutes before, the phone ringing shrilly in the cradle.

She was sick, certainly contagious, and wouldn't be leaving her bed for the entire day. Clara had apologised several times, insisting that she would watch Scorpius if she could.

Hermione refused to miss another day of work if she could help it. They were already short staffed as it was. Another option was to swallow her pride and ask Draco. There wasn't a single doubt in her mind that he would leap at the chance to help her. Rubbing the back of her neck, Hermione grumbled under her breath.

She grabbed her jacket hanging next to the door and slipped her arms through it before quietly sneaking out of the house. Letting the door close with a quiet click behind her, she made her way toward the street, looking up to be sure the only light in Scorpius' room was the nightlight.

The sun had barely risen as it was, the early morning rays just beginning to paint the sky in narrow streaks, and wide reaching arcs. She went out of her way to crush a leaf under her foot. There were no lights on in Draco's home, and it almost made her turn around. Missing a day of work would've been irritating, but Hermione sighed as she realised she couldn't afford to do so anyway.

Hermione rapped her knuckles against the front door, knocking three times. Loudly enough that he would hear it if he was awake, and softly enough that if he was asleep—

Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door before she could finish the thought. The door swung open and her stomach dropped. He'd clearly been asleep. Draco's mouth was open mid-yawn as he leaned against the door frame. He was shirtless, only clad in a pair of bottoms that were slung low on his hips.

Try as she might, Hermione struggled to keep her eyes on his face. Shifting her weight and swallowing hard, her eyes traced the long scar that split the majority of his chest. Her hand twitched and she tucked it firmly behind her back before she could embarrass herself by touching out to touch him.

He was more muscular, more defined, than she would have been led to believe by his clothes.

"Hermione?" Realistically, only a few moments had passed since she'd started ogling him.

She coughed. "Um, I realised that it was six in the morning, but I'm only just now realising what a terrible idea this was. It's nothing. You can go back to sleep—"

"Hermione," he repeated. "It's never a mistake to knock on my door."

"Um, well," Hermione huffed. "Do you want to put a shirt on?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Would you like me to?"

Three seconds passed, and Hermione wanted to kick herself for hesitating. This wasn't how this morning was meant to go. "I think that's a trick question," Hermione replied. "I want you to put a shirt on if _you_ want to. It's chilly outside, you know."

Draco smirked, nodding. "I do know that. It's six in the morning."

Glaring at him, she fought off a smile.

"What did you do, set the stove on fire again?" he teased.

Hermione's hand shot out, and she smacked his chest, leaving an angry red mark in its place. Childish, yes, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it as he sniggered. _There's no need to react over the fact that his chest is hard, and I've probably hurt my hand more than him. Just smile, and—_

"Too soon for jokes?"

"Yeah," Hermione breathed. "It's too soon for jokes. No, I was actually hoping I could ask you for a favour."

He straightened and she was reminded of how he towered over her. "Of course. Anything you need."

"Clara's sick, and I have no one to watch Scorpius while I'm at work. I could bring him, but he gets antsy, and it never goes well. I know it's a lot to ask, but I can't afford to miss another shift."

"Is that it?" he asked. "I'd be happy to. I'll call my supervisor and let him know I'll need to work from home today. What time should I pick him up?"

Hermione's mouth fell open, and she was rooted to the spot, even as he took a step toward her. "That's—" she spluttered. "It's just that easy?"

His fingers curved around her wrist, sliding until they tangled with her own. "It's that easy," he confirmed. "Anything else I should know?"

"Just that I need to leave by seven thirty." Hermione's heart was in her throat, beating so loudly she could hear it steady in her ears. "I can pay you."

He shook his head.

She wasn't surprised. "Draco, you're giving up your entire day. The least I can do is pay you for your time and trouble."

Draco wouldn't hear of it.

* * *

When Hermione answered the door, she was in the middle of tying her hair up, and there was a black bobby pin trapped between her teeth. His name fell from her mouth brightly as she ushered him inside. Pulling the pin from her mouth and tucking it into her curls, Hermione grabbed the backpack sitting at the end of the sofa.

"Everything Scorpius might need is in here. He's never any trouble, but I expect that he'll be more energetic since you're watching him today." Hermione sounded nervous, and from her perspective, he could see why.

As she saw it, she was leaving her son to a stranger.

But Draco couldn't have jumped at the opportunity quickly enough. "That's not a problem."

She tucked a stubborn curl behind her ear, and braced her hands against her hips as she looked around the sitting room. "I know I'm forgetting something." Hermione sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing it as she deliberated. "Dammit."

"I was wondering," Draco began and there was a long crash upstairs. "What was—"

Hermione held up a finger, craning her head to peer up the stairwell.

"I'm fine!" Scorpius yelled.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned to him as she folded her arms across her chest. "I'd bet you all of the money in my account that was him trying to reach a toy on the top shelf that I already told him he couldn't reach."

His heart was always seemingly out of rhythm when it came to her, but seeing her so in her element as a mother, it made his stomach twist, too. "He sounds like he's trying to be independent."

She snorted. "Yeah and stubborn as hell. I don't know where he got it from."

He couldn't stop the loud laugh that tore from his throat. _From the both of us, I imagine. _"You're saying you _don't _believe he inherited that from you?"

Hermione shot him a withering look. "I'm not _that _stubborn."

"Mmm," Draco mused. "Whatever you say."

Red crawled across her cheeks as she pursed her lips. "Thank you, again. I'm so appreciative for this. If there's anything I can do, or if you'll reconsider letting me pay you, I'd be happy to."

Shaking his head, Draco tucked his hands inside his pockets. "You're not going to be able to wear me down by asking repeatedly, you know."

"We'll see." She lifted her chin and met his eyes.

The urge to lean down, to walk her backwards to the wall until she curved into him, to kiss her like he imagined every time he saw her, was overwhelming. There were still warm flecks of gold in her eyes that caught the low light in her home, and he'd taken a step forward before he had the thought to stop himself.

Pale pink lips parted as he did, and Draco lingered on the pretty bow of her lips for a split second longer than he needed to. Granger exhaled unsteadily. "I did have a question." Draco cleared his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest. "If you're comfortable with it, I was hoping I could take him out for the day? I'm still unpacking and there's not much to do at my home."

She blinked and he watched her squeeze her hand shut after it had drifted towards him. "Of course. He'd love that. Actually, I can give you—" Hermione reached for her handbag, still hanging on the hook.

"I can pay. I don't mind," Draco told her. "Is there anywhere that he would like to go? For lunch, or…?"

Scorpius raced down the stairs, in the middle of zipping his coat as he stood just in front of them. "You're not Miss Clara," he said bluntly as he stared up at Draco.

Hermione offered a sheepish smile. "I hadn't told him yet because I knew he wouldn't focus on getting dressed if I did."

He laughed, secretly pleased that Scorpius liked him as much as he did. Although, he was hoping that would extend even farther by the end of the day.

"Miss Clara is sick, so Draco has agreed to watch you for the day." No sooner than the words left her mouth, Scorpius let out a loud yell and threw his hands in the air.

"Wicked."

Draco watched Hermione stifle a laugh and remain stern as she crouched down. She righted Scorpius' jacket and corrected the buttons. "I want you to be on your best behavior today, okay? If Draco tells you to do anything, you listen."

Scorpius' face was blank, calculating—if one could use that to describe a child—and very much like Draco. "What if he tells me to jump off a bridge."

Draco choked on his laugh, his hand flying to cover his mouth.

She giggled, and smoothed Scorpius' hair down. "He won't tell you to do that, love."

Scorpius insisted, "But what if he does?"

"Then don't jump off the bridge," Hermione replied before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I'll see you after work. I love you."

"I love you too, Mummy." Scorpius' words were muffled as he pressed his cheek to hers, planting a kiss there. "I'll be good."

* * *

They parted from Hermione at the end of the street. She waved goodbye, mouthing _thank you_ to him again, and he nodded. Scorpius had tucked his hand in his, wrapping icy cold fingers around Draco's. The silence of that only lasted a minute at most—Scorpius was a talkative child—but Draco enjoyed it.

_This is my son_.

The thought never truly left the front of his mind, but it flared with a new viciousness. Scorpius was nearly identical to him at this age: white blond hair that belonged to the Malfoys, narrow features that were luckily fuller thanks to Hermione, and eyes that matched his nearly exactly.

They were a bit lighter, but Draco didn't doubt they would darken as he grew older. Though… hopefully Scorpius would never grow to be as cruel as he had been at eleven—which was only a handful of years away from his current age—or to be as hard as he was as an adult.

"Draco?"

"What is it?"

Fingers squeezed his hand. "Can we go to the park?"

_As if I could say no to anything he wanted._

"Yes," Draco breathed. "We can do that."

* * *

Hours later, Draco could see that he'd made the correct decision. Scorpius' laugh rang in his ears as they slid into opposite sides of the booth. Scorpius had picked the restaurant, his self-proclaimed reward for beating Draco in a race from one side of the park to the other.

Which Draco could have obviously won—his legs were nearly as long as Scorpius was tall—but he would have asked Scorpius to pick either way.

Breathing heavily, Scorpius dragged his knitted hat off his head and patted his cheeks. "I can't breathe."

Draco nodded. "That happens when you run so much."

"I'm probably dying," he deadpanned.

"You just need some water." Draco laughed. "Are you having a good time?"

He nodded. "The best! Miss Clara is fun, but not as fun as you. Thank you." He grabbed the glass of water the waitress set in front of him, greedily swallowing mouthfuls.

"If you drink that too fast—" Draco only managed to say half of his sentence before Scorpius drained the glass.

Wiping his mouth, he pushed the glass back towards the waitress. "I'm sorry, miss. Could I have another?"

She plucked it from the table with an amused smile. "Of course. Do you need time to look at the menu?"

Draco nodded. "Thank you." Leaning back in his seat, he shrugged off his jacket, careful to make sure his wand remained concealed. His eyes dropped to his forearm, finding smooth skin. It was only a glamour, regularly re-cast—

_Granger's arm. _

Draco suddenly couldn't breathe. He wasn't at all sure how he hadn't stopped to think of it before. Blame it on how quickly life had moved once he'd discovered her, once he'd moved, but he knew for certain that there was no scar on her forearm.

There was no _Mudblood _carved into her arm. He'd been intimately acquainted with the wound while they'd remained in Shell Cottage.

"_It'll never go away," Granger whispered. "It was a cursed knife." Seconds ticked by as he rested on his knees while she sat on the edge of the bed. "Look at me, Draco. There's nothing you could have done." _

_He held her arm gently, his thumb stroking across the crooked start to an M, and he pressed his lips to the raised, waxy flesh. "I should have been _there."

_She shook her head. "You were there when it counted, you know. It's just my arm, rather than my life, rather than what's coming next. This scar will define me as much as yours does for you. Meaning to say," Granger ran her fingers through his hair, "it won't define either of us." _

"_I took this willingly," _

_Granger slid off the bed, wedging herself between the frame and him, tilting her head up as the light caught a purpling bruise on her cheek. "Are we going to argue about this again?" _

"_I'll find a way to remove this," he rasped, hands coming up to cradle her face. "I promise." _

He'd seen her scrub the sink in his kitchen. She'd hand washed dishes after dinner, handing each to him to dry the last time she'd invited him over.

There had been no scar.

Not even the faintest reminder of one.

It had to be a glamour. Like his, but that would mean Bellatrix hadn't been alone in whatever plot she'd concocted. A witch—or a wizard—must have come to France after her disappearance to glamour the scar.

Potter. He needed to talk to—

"Oh my!" A high-pitched voice derailed his thoughts. Draco's head snapped up to see an elderly woman adjusting her shawl. "I just had to tell you that your son is absolutely darling. Such a cute little boy."

Scorpius looked panicked, his eyes widening as he stared back at Draco.

Draco quickly swallowed. "Thank you, but this isn't my son." It was a lie that burned as he said it, each word seemingly ripped from him.

"What an age gap then!" She smiled, ruffling Scorpius' hair, as he pulled away. She didn't notice. "Your mother must be exhausted! The two of you look alike. Positively identical!" Her husband pulled her way, shaking his head.

Scorpius stared at him, tilting his head to the side, a motion that was too similar to Granger. "We do look just alike," he stated.

Oh, Draco was fucked.

* * *

Draco met Granger promptly at six and she invited him inside. "How was he?" she asked as Scorpius kicked his shoes off at the door. "Dinner is on the table already," she called after him, but he was already rushing towards the kitchen.

"He was great," Draco replied. "How was work?"

She exhaled sharply. "It was hectic. I'm not sure what would have happened if I hadn't had someone to watch him today. Thank you so much, again. Did the two of you have a good time?"

He nodded. "We went to the park and out to lunch. We also went to a few shops, so I hope you don't mind that I might have spoiled him more than I should have." Draco revealed a bag from behind his back. "Before you insist on paying me, money isn't a problem for me, but I don't want to overstep any boundaries."

Hermione nibbled her lower lip but took the bag from him. "It's okay, but I hope you're prepared for him to like you even more now. You've certainly won him over." She sighed. "Thank you. I know I've said that so many times already, but I'm more grateful than I can express. If there's anything I can do to repay you…"

As she trailed off, Draco could hear Scorpius playing at the kitchen table, and all he could think about was how _exhausting _it was not to be with her. "Forgive me if this is too forward, but would you like to have dinner with me? Not to repay me, but—"

"Yes." She grinned. "I'd really like that."

They said goodbye at the door while she clutched a foil coloured shopping bag in her fingers and leaned against the doorframe. "Goodnight, Hermione," he murmured.

Softly smiling, she nodded. "Night, Draco. I'll let you know what day I can get a sitter, but can we plan for Saturday?"

It was becoming more and more clear over the last month, but Draco was certain he would be besotted with her no matter what life he met her in.

* * *

**Wooo, last upload from me for 2019! Thank you so much for all of the ongoing support. Please let me know what you thought here and you're welcome to come talk to me on tumblr at mrsren96! **

**Fun/Not So Fun Fact: Last night I wrote the ending of one of the chapters for this story, and I cried. It made me so fucking emotional. I can't wait to show you because I hope the turmoil will be felt through my writing. (Sorrrry.) **


	8. Chapter 8

**It's still Tuesday in like two time zones. Unfortunately neither of those time zones are my own. But here's an update, and it's pretty meaty. All my love to mcal and dreamsofdramione. Couldn't do this without them. **

* * *

Still thrumming with excitement after two days came and went, Hermione couldn't wipe the smile from her face when she tucked Scorpius into bed. Changed into his favorite pajamas fresh out of the wash, his hair stuck in all directions as he slid down the headboard. There was only one day, only two nights of sleep, separating her from dinner with Draco.

She'd been anxiously waiting all week, brimming with excitement, but that soon changed as Scorpius lifted his chin.

His nails were bitten down, cracked, and he continued to pick at them. "Mum?"

Hermione sat beside him, settling a hand on his legs over the blanket. "Is something wrong?" She brushed hair from his face, her eyes dropping back down to his hand.

Scorpius had very few nervous ticks, but he always chewed his nails right before he came to her with a concern. She should have noticed sooner. "Do you think Draco is my dad?"

A choked sound wrenched free, and Hermione struggled to find her voice. "Where did you hear that?" If it had been that girl in the shop, she swore…

"An old lady told Draco his son was cute and… and we have the same hair." He twisted into his blankets, hope flashing across his features. "Do you think…?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, Draco isn't your father."

His face crumpled, and his nail caught on a stray thread from his blanket. "Maybe there's a chance," he murmured. "You don't remember, and what if that's why he moved here?"

"You have quite the imagination," Hermione whispered, smoothing his hair down. "But it's not true. I'm sorry, Scorpius."

His nod was meek. "Why isn't my dad here?"

It was a question that'd cropped up a handful of times every year. Sometimes it was just after they'd spotted a father and son in the park near their home. Sometimes it was because he said he'd had a dream of a man who could be his father. Hermione had suspected it was only a matter of time before Scorpius posed the question again, given how attached he'd grown to Draco in such a short span of time.

Just like every other time, Hermione couldn't find the correct answer. It bothered her to watch his face fall, and his eyes water. All she wanted to do was make it better.

Small fingers curled around hers. "What if he didn't want us?"

"Scorpius, that's not possible," Hermione replied. "You're everything good in this world."

Lifting his head, she spotted the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes. "Can I just sleep with you tonight?"

They were long past Scorpius climbing into her bed in the middle of the night—whether it was because he had a nightmare, or simply because he had a crippling fear of the dark—but Hermione could admit there were times she missed those nights. _He'll never be this little again. _

Hermione swiped her thumb across the back of his hand. "Just for tonight, okay? Why don't you go climb into my bed, and I'll be in there soon?"

Scorpius bobbed his head and threw off the covers. He snatched the stuffed green dragon from the bed and escaped from the room as quickly as his short legs would allow, like he feared she might change her mind.

She lingered for a moment, staring at the walls of the room, listening for Scorpius to stop rustling in her room just a short way down the corridor.

Would going to dinner with Draco only spur Scorpius' optimistic thinking? The worry felt warranted, and Hermione's stomach twisted. She would just have to be sure about what she was getting into before ever explaining it to her son. Hermione nodded to herself, sighing quietly as she imagined that. Pondering there could eventually be something to explain only raised her hopes higher.

The light switch was cool under her fingers as she turned the lights off, taking one last once over of the room before gently closing the door.

* * *

On Friday morning, Hermione realised, with a startling clarity, that she had never asked Clara if she'd mind watching Scorpius for a few extra hours on Saturday. She bit the inside of her cheek as she waited for the woman to answer the door, and when she did, Hermione almost didn't ask.

"Hermione, I thought you'd be home today. Not that I mind," she added. "I'm making cookies if you'd like to come in."

She shook her head. "Actually, I meant to ask you for a favour, and it completely slipped my mind. You wouldn't happen to have plans for tomorrow evening, would you?" Aged wood creaked slightly under her weight as she shifted, and Hermione glanced at the wind chime over her head. "This is too short notice. I'm sorry, I'll—"

Clara smirked, and her hand shot out faster than Hermione could follow as she lightly swatted her arm with a wooden spoon. "Nonsense, you know you can ask me for anything."

Clasping her hands together, Hermione swallowed. "I was wondering if you could watch Scorpius for a few hours tomorrow."

She waved her spoon. "Of course. Inventory already?"

"Um," Hermione started. "Not exactly. I have a date—"

Clara's eyes snapped up to meet hers and her reaction was comical.

"—with Draco." Hermione finished, a wide smile stretching her lips. "He asked me to dinner after he watched Scorpius this week. If you're too busy though, we could—"

The spoon shot up, effectively silencing her. "This date will not be rescheduled under any circumstances. What time will you drop Scorpius off?"

"Six, if that's alright. I'd like to get ready without needing to explain where I'm going," Hermione replied. "He doesn't know Draco and I are having dinner, and I'd prefer for it to stay that way."

She nodded. "You're right to. And what time will you pick him up? Unless…" Clara grinned wryly, "Do you need an overnight visit? I can have the spare room put together in ten minutes."

Heat flooded her cheeks, and Hermione giggled openly. "That won't be necessary."

"This time."

"_Clara."_

Sniggering under her breath, Clara shrugged. "I'm happy for you. You deserve to have a good time, Hermione. A grand love affair, if you will."

She stepped backwards off the porch, steadying herself on the railing. "It's only a first date. Let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet."

_Though, _her mind remarked snarkily, _you've thought of exactly that. You remember the way his pajamas hung low, revealing the outline of his— _

"Thank you." Hermione ran her fingers through her hair. "Am I right not to tell Scorpius? A few days ago, he asked if Draco was his father. I'm worried this will only further his thinking and raise his hopes."

Clara hummed, tapping a finger against her chin. "As important as it is for you to enjoy your life, you're right to protect Scorpius. I suspect you already know that. If your relationship with Draco progresses to the point of becoming something serious, you can have that conversation then."

Her shoes slid across the slick grass and Hermione nodded. "It's nice to hear it from someone else."

"Speaking of—" Clara raised her chin. "Draco's coming this way. You ought to not keep him waiting. I'll see you soon." With a little wave, she vanished back inside her home, and the front door closed with a faint click.

A grin broke across her face, and Hermione hurried towards Draco, meeting him outside of the gate. "What are you doing home? Shouldn't you be at work?"

Pink settled on his face, dusting the bridge of his nose and cheeks as he drew in a deep breath. "They sent me home, actually. I've never been dismissed from work a day in my life."

Craning her head back, Hermione stepped to the side so the sun was hidden behind him, but the harsh rays still framed his figure. "Oh? What did you do?"

"Who's to say I did anything at all?"

Hermione giggled. "How am I to know that you didn't?"

"I'll have you know I'm a model employee." He huffed, bracing his hands against his hips in a way that made him appear almost motherly. Draco's brows knitted together as she laughed heavily at the thought.

She didn't mean to step closer to him, but she did, her body language mirroring his. The corner of her mouth twitched, and Hermione swallowed to mask another laugh. "If that's true, why were you sent home?"

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not inclined to tell you _now _since you've wounded me so deeply."

Hermione caught Clara watching them from behind a sheer curtain in her kitchen. "However will I make it up to you?"

Fingers trailed down her arm, skimming her wrist, and her breath caught in her throat. "Mmm," Draco mused quietly, and then he was against her, his shirt brushing her fingers. "Maybe you'll come to dinner with me?"

Lightheaded from the happiness that surged through her, Hermione blanked on something, _anything, _witty to say. "I already agreed to that. Did you forget?"

His face drained of colour. "Wait—"

Hermione tapped her foot, folding her arms across her chest. "If you've already forgotten—"

"I _didn't _forget. You're just putting words in my mouth, you witch." His fingers danced along her hip. "It would be impossible to forget since I've rarely thought of anything else."

That was it. He'd fully outdone her.

Kicking a stone into the street, Hermione caught him staring at her lips when she looked back up. "Where did you come from?"

He blinked, pausing for a long moment. "England? Technically speaking, my childhood home is in Wiltshire, but I rent a flat in London with Potter." Draco walked with her as she turned, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Was that more specific than you needed?"

She shook her head. "I'm happy to learn anything you're willing to tell me. I just meant that you're too flirtatious and kind to have come from the same breed of men that I've met."

Hermione missed the way his eyes darkened, choosing to stare up at a rustling branch over their heads instead. "Is that so?"

"Why do you call your partner by his last name?" Hermione asked, changing the subject. She'd never meant to bring up her past attempts at dating—it had just slipped out before she took the chance to correct herself.

Draco's hand found hers and he threaded their fingers together.

Noting his hesitation, Hermione squeezed his hand, not eager to separate quite yet. They meandered along the path back to her home, and she could barely make out a crown of white blond hair through the window.

"It's just a habit from our school years. He still calls me Malfoy."

Interesting. "Were the two of you friends during school?"

He blew out a hard laugh. "Absolutely not. I'd rather say we tormented each other, but that was my fault more so than his."

"It's honorable for you to admit that." Her thumb slid over each bump of his knuckles, and she was pleased to see that he was just as affected by her as she was by him. "What were you like in school?"

The question, innocent as it seemed, was followed by a wince. "I was a terror," Draco admitted. "Another girl shattered my nose when we were fourteen."

"Oh, my God."

"I deserved it."

"Why on earth did she punch you?" Hermione gaped. "And she broke your nose! Surely you didn't deserve that."

Leaves crunched under them as they came to a stop under a large tree. "I did. She punched me because I was an utter twat to her and her friends—one of them being Potter." As his mouth closed around the sentence, a contented smile curved his lips.

Hermione's stomach dropped. "It was her, wasn't it? Your girlfriend that…"

Gone was his joy, replaced with seemingly irreparable sadness. "Yes, it was. We weren't friends then either."

She'd been worried about Scorpius getting his hopes up, but the worry that _she _might do exactly the same had never crossed her mind. Clearly, he still ached so deeply over the loss that Hermione worried that—

_It wasn't a competition_, she reassured herself.

"Do you want to tell me about her? You said you would."

The branch forced a shadow over his face. "She called me a foul, loathsome, evil cockroach, and then she fucking decked me," he whispered, raising their hands to press his lips to her knuckles. "I realise it can't be fun to hear about her. Please tell me if it ever causes you to feel uncomfortable."

Shame washed over her. After all, it had been silly to feel as if she were competing with a ghost.

"Not at all. We're about to have lunch if you'd like to join us. I'd be happy to hear about anything else. I can't promise that Scorpius will share the sandwiches, or that he'll listen, but…"

He didn't tear his eyes from hers as he kissed her knuckles again. "I'd love to."

* * *

It was only dinner.

A first date—nothing she should fawn over too much lest she drive herself mad. Even with all of those thoughts, Hermione bought a new dress from a boutique near the bookshop on her lunch break. It fit her nicely, making her curves smoother where she wished they were naturally, and she had to admit, the lacy bra the clerk recommended boosted her confidence.

No one else would see it, but if things continued to go well…

Hermione nipped the thought in the bud the moment it flickered across her mind and her stomach tightened. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't followed that thought at least _once_. Draco was absurdly attractive. Her gaze tended to linger more than it should, and there was very little doubt it had gone unnoticed, but she'd caught him looking at her as well. So, perhaps it wasn't so mortifying.

Draco knocked on her door and produced flowers from behind his back with a flourish.

As she locked her door, she craned her head back to sneak a glance toward Clara's just to make sure Scorpius wasn't outside. That conversation would come eventually, but not tonight. Tonight she was going to let this man take her to dinner, and Hermione would allow herself to enjoy it.

Threading their fingers together, he tugged her close. Draco's hip lightly bumped hers, and there was a grin curving his lips as he peeked down at her. "Lost in your thoughts?"

Hermione raised her chin and squeezed his hand. "Only always."

Beyond the faint sound of wind rolling past them, it was quiet as he led them to dinner.

* * *

Without a doubt, it was the best date she'd _ever _been on. Where others hadn't much cared for the fact that she was a single mother, Draco welcomed her conversations about Scorpius. He took a keen interest in all of the stories, and that interest was genuine.

_When did he learn to walk? What was his first word? Do you think he's a lot like you? _

All of those questions were things she would have loved to talk about, but would have typically held back. She'd mentioned that over dinner, absently chasing her food around the plate with a fork and not meeting his eyes. But Draco only smiled and reassured her that she didn't need to hold anything back from him.

Her chest was light as Hermione continuously bumped her hip against his as they took a walk. It had been her idea, fueled by the fact that she didn't want the night to end, even as every step took them closer to home. "How's work?"

He swallowed, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. She'd noticed that he did it often, but she wasn't complaining. "Busy," he answered. "I can't tell you much, but they have what seems like a solid suspect in the case of the murder."

Hermione nodded, and a strand of hair slipped from where it was pinned in the back. "That's great news. Anything else interesting?"

He opened his mouth, and then closed it. "No."

Arching a brow, she elbowed him lightly in his side. "Spit it out."

"I don't—"

"I'm a mum. I know when someone is lying." Hermione laughed faintly, and watched him avert his gaze up at the sky. "You don't have to tell me anything, but just know that I know."

Draco sniggered. "It's nothing important, but it's been a source of irritation. We have a new intern. She mostly files paperwork, but for some reason, no matter where I go," Draco's irritation began to show on his face, "she's bloody there."

It wasn't jealousy that bloomed in her stomach, Hermione swore, but she knew better than that. "How old is she?"

Giving a shrug, he muttered, "I don't know. She can't be older than twenty."

"Hmm," Hermione hummed. "Well, I imagine you're used to attention like that, but have you told her to leave you alone?"

He stopped in the middle of the street, pulling them both to a halt. Smirking, he asked lowly, "_I_ should be used to attention? Care to elaborate on that?"

_Not particularly. _Her mouth was dry despite her attempt to swallow, and Hermione met darkening eyes. "Are you searching for a compliment?"

The corner of his mouth twitched. "If you're kind enough to give me one."

"It's no wonder she's vying for your attention," Hermione said slowly, her heart pounding rapidly in her chest. "You're fit." She didn't regret saying it, but there was a certain vulnerability that came with it, and she stomped down her nerves. "You're quite attractive, and I know that _you _know that. You just want to hear it from me."

"You caught me," Draco murmured, hands settling on her hips as he pulled her a bit closer. "That's exactly it. Does that make me vain?"

"Mmm, no."

He dipped his head lower, and Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as she stretched up. Even in heels, she wasn't tall enough to completely close the gap. Draco's close proximity sent a shiver down her spine, and soft lips brushed hers.

Hermione's mobile rang too loud in the middle of the street. Fumbling with her handbag while the leather strap annoyingly got in the way, she apologised, "I'm so sorry. It's Scorpius. I need to—"

"You don't have to apologise, Hermione." Draco's lips brushed the top of her hair as she pressed her mobile to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Mum, when are you coming to get me?" Scorpius asked, sleepiness evident in his tone. "I'm bored."

Hermione rubbed her temple, her own frustration forming in her pit of her stomach. She and Draco had been so close…

"I'll be there soon. Does Clara know you called me?"

Hardly seconds later, Clara's voice snapped in the background, "Scorpius, did you call your mother after I explicitly told you not to?"

"Um," Scorpius managed.

There was a rustling, and then nothing. "Hermione?" Clara asked. "I'm sorry. I told him not to call you, but he took it upon himself to do it anyway as soon as I went to the loo."

Nibbling her lower lip while attempting to ignore Draco's fingers tracing her spine, Hermione shook her head. "It's fine. I'll be there shortly."

Clara sighed. "Did he interrupt anything?" The innuendo didn't go unnoticed, and judging by the snort Hermione heard, Draco had heard as well. "He did, didn't he? That little bugger. Well, we'll see you shortly. Enjoy your night."

Draco stifled his laugh.

"I'll see you soon." Grinning ear to ear, Hermione tucked her mobile back into the inner pocket of her handbag. "I didn't want to cut our night short."

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering before cupping her cheek. "There will be several other nights," Draco whispered. "Or, at least, I'm hoping there will be."

This was everything she'd been missing on other dates, Hermione realised with a startling clarity. "I'd love that." And deciding that Draco would understand her reasoning, she chose to tell him something else. "I didn't tell Scorpius I was having dinner with you. He's young and impressionable, and the last thing I want to do is confuse him."

"Of course," he replied quietly. "You're a fantastic mum. That's not what we're talking about, is it? If you're asking me to continue to act normally around Scorpius, that's not a problem."

Hermione wasn't surprised that he'd known what she was going to ask before she'd even gotten the chance. "Thank you. I worried you might believe I wasn't taking this seriously, but of course, you're very different from anyone else I've met."

"Whoever would've assumed that sounds like a ponce."

Her laugh burst out of her chest, loud and absolutely her. It sounded obnoxious to her, but he didn't give any sign of having that same impression. "You'd be right about that."

They lingered at the end of the street. His hands were tucked in his pockets while she clasped her hands together, fighting off the urge to fidget. "Normally, I would walk you to your door, but that seems like it would be going out of the way since you still need to pick up your son."

"Were you planning on fulfilling the cliché of kissing me on my stoop?"

The air that rushed from his lungs sounded suspiciously like the beginning of a laugh. "That depends on whether or not you hate clichés."

Hermione tapped her index finger against her chin, humming as she pretended to ponder. "In books? I suppose so. But right now? I think I'd welcome that cliche."

Draco took a small step forward, smirking as she met him in the middle, and bent down. A weak sound left her as his lips slanted against hers, and his hands gripped her hips. Reaching up to tangle her fingers in his hair, she delighted in the ragged breath she dragged from him as her nails scraped his scalp.

She was almost certain that she'd whispered his name, and Draco might have done the same. With her head spinning, Hermione didn't pay much attention to anything other than one of his hands sliding down her back, the other squeezing her hip.

When she pulled away, Draco captured her lips again. "I'm sorry," he gasped, cupping her face, before leaning away from her. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes heavy lidded, and Hermione decided she liked the sight of him so disheveled.

Especially when she knew she'd caused it.

"You never need to apologise for wanting to kiss me."

* * *

By the time she parted from Draco, he had kissed her four more times. Or maybe she had initiated them. Hermione wasn't altogether sure, her head still spinning from what had been the best night she'd had in a long while.

With a soft smile curling her lips, Hermione had carried Scorpius home when he stumbled over his feet in the short walk, clearly exhausted. With a smudge of chocolate still at the corner of his lip, Scorpius slept soundly as she settled him on her hip. It wasn't comfortable in the slightest. He'd grown quickly for his age, and his height was in the highest percentile.

Scorpius would no doubt grow to be much taller than her by the time he reached adulthood—and _that _was a thought Hermione immediately shoved away.

She tucked him into bed after climbing the stairs, pulling his blanket over him. Switching the night light on, she left the door cracked.

Hermione stripped out of her dress, struggling with the zipper spanning her back. Pulling an oversized shirt over her head, she climbed into bed in only that and her knickers. She was asleep in only moments.

* * *

_The corridor was drafty, a deep chill sinking into her skin as she pushed the bedroom door open and padded towards the kitchen. She ought to have eaten dinner, but after the past twenty-four hours, there was no telling if she'd be able to keep down any amount of food. _

_As she turned a corner, her hands tucked into the pockets of the wool pajamas she'd borrowed from Fluer—they were too long for her—she bumped into a hard chest. _

"_Shite." Of course, she'd have recognised that voice anywhere, but it didn't belong here. Not in Shell Cottage. Not in the Order— _

_Hermione lifted her head, memories swimming back to her of a looming manor, of intricate portraits and an even more decorated ceiling. _

_Screaming, she'd been screaming. _

_Screaming until she could hear little else, until someone had pulled her out. Apparition felt like being squeezed through a tube. She'd vomited on whoever had a hold of her. _

_As she stood in front of him, Hermione remembered it wasn't Harry, and it hadn't been Ron either. _

_Swallowing hard, Hermione looked at him. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked more gaunt than she'd ever seen. She truly meant to say something else, something polite, but she didn't. _

"_Fiendfyre is dangerous. How did you control it?" Hermione murmured. _

_He flinched, averting his gaze. "It was lucky. I didn't have any other options to separate us from Death Eaters." _

"_You saved me." _

"_Don't thank me," Malfoy hissed. _

_Hermione shook her head. "If you won't let me thank you, maybe you'll let me do something for you?" she suggested, watching him raise a brow. "You don't look like you've eaten." _

"_Are you serious?" He scoffed. _

"_Well, I need to eat, too." She shrugged. "So, if you're hungry, I'll be in the kitchen." Hermione's arm brushed his as she passed him. _

_Malfoy followed her, and the floor creaked beneath him. _

* * *

**For the record, the dreams are some of my favorite parts to write of this story. I hope that you enjoyed this! Let me know in the comments? I'll see you next week!**


	9. Chapter 9

Kicking the door shut behind him, Draco shrugged out of his jacket and laid it over the back of the recliner. He rolled his neck from side to side, stomping out the urge to react girlishly to a little snog.

Well, he thought smugly, it had been several instances that closely followed, one right after the other. That was something. Granger still couldn't keep her hands to herself and it was a relief. The pressure that had been weighing him down since she'd happily jumped at the idea of a date was gone.

For a few hours at least, everything had been just the way it was always meant to be. Hermione had laughed at something he said that really wasn't _that_ funny, and she'd swallowed greedy sips of wine as her eyes fluttered shut.

It was jarring to know that this was the life they would have lived had they crawled out from the brunt of the war, but the nagging thought about how that _hadn't _happened returned—and someone was to blame.

"Are you going to smile like a dope for the rest of the night?" Potter's voice was a low, amused drawl from the fireplace.

Half expecting his partner to be lounging about in his kitchen—Potter would go where there was food to be nicked—Draco's head snapped up.

Hovering in the fireplace was Harry, his glasses crooked and his hair just as messy as always. "What are you so happy about?"

Draco arched a pale brow, not interested in immediately offering details. "Have you lost your brush again? You look like a mop."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Malfoy, I lost my brush in the midst of all your fucking hair products. Honestly, why do you need so many?"

Draco really didn't have _that _many, but Potter was an incessant nag and brought it up all the fucking time—especially in front of anyone who would get a laugh out of it. "Fuck off."

"I ought to draw a map. If you've gone past the leaning tower of men's hair goop, you've gone too—"

"It's called hair gel, you inbred."

"You're calling me the inbred? Draco, I hate to break it to you but—"

Draco scowled. "I'll reach through this fireplace and—"

Crossing his legs on the floor, Harry leaned forward. "Now that we've filled our daily quota of banter, how about you tell me what you're so happy about."

Kneeling down, Draco sat in front of the fireplace, glancing behind him to make sure he wasn't visible from the window. "I took Granger to dinner."

"Yeah?" Potter beamed. "Didn't you take her to lunch right after you arrived, too? And you've had dinner with them both a few times, haven't you?"

"Merlin's fucking beard, are you keeping tabs on me?" Draco snapped. The last time he'd spoken to his partner had been in person following the disastrous meeting with his parents. "Did Robards put you up to this?"

Harry shook his head. "Come on, you had to have known I was going to look out for you. I'm nosy, sure, but this is more about surveillance; for your sake partly, but mostly for Hermione and Scorpius."

It made enough sense, but knowing that Potter easily knew everything that was going on didn't sit right with him. He'd kissed Hermione until she was clinging to him and emitting sweet, little sounds that he'd been imagining for years. No one else needed to know about that.

"Robards wants wards put on her house."

Draco waved a hand. "Done and they've already come in handy. She set the stove on fire, almost gave me a bloody stroke. It wasn't even the first time. Can you imagine?"

Dark brows knit together, worry spreading over Potter's face. "That's…" He frowned, but moved onto another subject. "How was dinner?"

Despite his attempt to school his features, not eager to reveal a shred of vulnerability, Draco's lips curved into a wide smile. "The wait was worth it."

"You sappy fuck." Harry snorted. "How's Scorpius?"

_Perfect_.

"He's stubborn like his mother." Draco grinned as they both laughed. "So fucking polite. She's the best mum."

_And I've missed every second of it up until now. _

He wondered what kind of father he could be if given the chance.

"She asked me to watch him for the day when her normal babysitter was ill."

"How was that?"

Draco propped his head up in his hand. "We went to the park and then to lunch. An old woman told me my son was cute. He's fucking precious so she wasn't wrong, but he behaved strangly after that."

"Hmm."

"I know you didn't call me to ask about Granger. At least, that's not the only reason," Draco muttered, summoning a bottle of Ogden's and a glass.

Carding his fingers through his hair, Harry's lips tugged down into a frown. "I don't want to worry you."

Lead formed in the pit of his stomach. "Spit it out."

"First, I'm monitoring the movements of Death Eaters on parole and current sympathizers. Nothing to report so far, but they think Dolohov might be moving through France right now."

Draco's eyes narrowed. He hardly needed to be reminded of what the man was capable of doing. He'd seen the vicious purple mark from a curse that should have cut Granger in two, ran his fingers over the scar, dragged his lips across it while reassuring her that it meant nothing. "What part of France?" His nails bit into the leather armrest as he clenched his fist.

Harry shook his head. "Robards is sending in a team near the southern border. I doubt you'll cross paths, but you _should fortify the _wards on her home."

Clicking his tongue, Draco made a mental note to check the wards and refresh the protective charms around the property. "Consider it done."

"Good then. Now, the next part might be even worse depending on how you look at it. Your father is a menace."

"Your hair is atrocious."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"I'm sorry. I thought we were stating things that we already knew were true." Whisky sloshed against the edge of his glass, burning a path down his throat.

"Oi, fuck off. Just because you're in France doesn't mean I won't pummel you." Harry patted his hair. "And witches like my hair."

"Oh?" Draco snorted. "Do they like it as much as they like that scar or your fancy Order of Merlin?"

"You are such an arsehole."

He shrugged. "I'm selective in my kindness."

"I'm supposed to be your best mate!"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. There's no need to put a label on things." Hiding his shite eating grin behind his arm, Draco watched in amusement.

Potter's eyes went wide. "You know, I don't know how Hermione ever got through this false rough exterior of yours."

That was a story. Everything was a story, even the present, but this time he was working on writing it just the way he wanted. "She chipped away at it with tea at two in the morning every night when we couldn't sleep."

Harry nodded. "I didn't mean that literally, but it's hard to nag when you've got that dopey look on your face."

"I don't."

He sniggered. "You _do_. Must have been some date, Malfoy."

"I'll reach through this fire and throttle you if you say one cross word about my date." Draco glared, but there was little malice in it. "What has my father done now?"

Confused, Harry blinked as he combed his fingers through his hair. "What?"

"My father," Draco repeated. "You said he was a menace—which he is—but I doubt that was just simple conversation. What has he done now?"

"Oh, that." Both sides of his mouth dragged down. "You're not going to like it."

Draco waved a hand. "Surprise, surprise."

"Ron heard from a witch he's been seeing. She works in the Department of Magical Contracts, so she told him, and he told me. Lucius requested a copy of the betrothal contract between the Malfoys and the Greengrasses. I thought you said your engagement to the younger one was officially broken off?"

He couldn't breathe. It wasn't just bad, it could easily be a complete fucking _catastrophe. _

Chugging the rest of his glass, Draco leaned forward, elbows braced against his knees as he hid his face in his hands. "I thought it was. Her father wanted nothing to do with me after I defected. The Greengrasses never spoke in support of Voldemort"—he _still_ flinched at the name, but only slightly—"but they didn't speak against it either. You're certain it's still there?"

Potter nodded, teeth digging into his lower lip. "Yeah, but that's not the worst of it."

"Of fucking _course _it's not."

"Astoria was engaged to Theo Nott up until a few days ago."

Draco hadn't known the two were engaged, nor did he care. Though they were _formerly _friends, Theo had escaped England the first chance he got. Not branded with the devil's mark, he'd fled to the states weeks after the war ended. "Theo wouldn't have broken an engagement. He's not as traditional as his father, but he—"

"It reeks of Lucius. There was a large sum deposited into the Greengrass' vault at Gringotts the morning her father dissolved the engagement."

Draco sighed. "How do you know that?"

At best, Harry appeared to be flighty, his eyes jumping in every direction. "I may have pulled records, and cited that they were for mandatory audits of all arseholes—excuse me, _sympathisers—_who were put on probation."

"Cassius Greengrass was never put on probation. Potter, you didn't—"

He threw his hands up. "Do you want answers from me or do you want me to follow protocol? I can't do both."

"What did you do?"

"I..." Harry's cheeks were red. "I don't particularly want to tell you, but fine. Robards isn't going to discipline me for it since he agreed, but I might have forged his signature."

Strict, stern Head Auror Robards was the scariest man Draco had ever dealt with beyond the Dark Lord.

"Shite, you didn't have to do that."

"Who do you think you're talking to? You're my best mate, too. You and Ron. I know you'd do it for me, even though you'll deny it." Harry shrugged. "Lucius bribed Cassius to end the engagement, and he's going to use this as an attempt to trap you. If he wanted to hide what he was doing, Lucius should have been more careful. This was easy."

Gulping the lump in his throat, Draco swiped the bottle of firewhisky from the end table. "Father doesn't need to be careful. It's a living magical contract sealed with blood magic. Either I fulfill the contract or I'm cast out of my house."

"But you're the head of the family—"

He shook his head. "That doesn't matter. These are ancient laws passed down through the history of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Astoria will leap at the opportunity to have the Malfoy fortune as her own. Not to mention attaching herself to the status I've gained since becoming an Auror." Gritting his teeth, Draco slumped. "I'll take care of it. Keep an eye on my father, and let me know if there are any other developments."

Harry gave a weak smile. "I'll send you the details on Dolohov if he gets any closer."

Draco watched as the flames dispersed. Left alone in the stark quiet, he heaved a sigh and slumped into the chair. He remained there for a long while.

It seemed nothing would ever be easy.

* * *

At his side, Hermione dutifully washed the dishes before handing them off for him to dry. Strands of hair escaped her loose bun and an endearing scowl twisted her lips as she scrubbed.

"I don't think that's coming off."

"We'll see about that." Her lips curved upward. "This is the danger of letting Scorpius eat in his room. He never brings the dishes back."

Draco snorted. He didn't have any memories like that. Mother had always insisted they eat together in the formal dining room where elves had always served them. Not once had he had the chance to take food into his bedroom—aside from the occasional treat.

He liked that Scorpius had this experience almost as much as he liked that Hermione wasn't truly irritated by the habit. She simply treated it as something a little boy would do. The notion was so different from what he'd had with Lucius as his father.

If he'd known about Granger and Scorpius, Draco wondered if his son would have still had these experiences.

"Draco?" Hermione paused. "You're staring at me. Is there something on my face?"

Jarred from his internal debate over inconsequential things, Draco peered down at her. In the next room, Scorpius yelled victoriously over a board game, and he was certain half of England could hear Clara's sigh.

Holding out a plate, Granger giggled. "What were you thinking about?"

It wasn't as if he could tell her the truth, despite the fact that it was constantly on the tip of his tongue. "Uh—" Draco's tongue darted out to slide along the seam of his lips, and her eyes darkened as she followed the motion. Struck by the want that never fully went away, he snatched the bowl from her hand and laid it in the sink. "Come here."

Granger cast a look over her shoulder as his fingers threaded through hers, and he tugged her around the corner. "What are we doing?"

"Hiding," he murmured.

"You're smirking. Why do I feel like that's a bad thing?"

Merlin, she was so similar to the version of herself that he'd fallen in love with a lifetime ago that it made his chest ache. "I assure you, it's a very good thing. Now tell Clara and Scorpius we need to do something." Caging her between the wall of the pantry and his body, he watched her chest rise and fall with short breaths.

Hermione swallowed, fingers clutching at the hem of his jacket. "Clara! I'll be getting something out of the pantry."

He slid the door shut, wedging his knee between her thighs. "Seriously? You've said where we are, and as precious as he is, Scorpius is a nosy little bugger."

Her giggle was faint. "Oh, I know. Just wait." Light from the kitchen trailed through the slats of the door, stretching across her face and cutting across the bow of her lips.

"Yes, dear!" Clara called.

She tilted her head to the side. "Clara's well aware that I'm not in the pantry looking for," her eyes searched the shelves, "well, anything that would actually come out of the pantry. So, this is what you were thinking about?"

Blowing out a harsh breath, he cupped her face. "More like what I'm always thinking about, honestly. I'm utterly besotted with you." Draco didn't _mean _to say it. They'd only gone one one date. Though she'd probably agree it felt like many more considering he ate dinner with them nearly every night. But _that_ sounded like—like—

Fingers climbed his chest, and she grabbed his shirt, hauling him closer. "It's nice to hear the feeling is mutual then." Her voice was a weak whisper. "If you don't kiss me right now, we're going to have a serious discussion about—"

Her back met the wall with a thud that wasn't _so _quiet considering he heard Scorpius ask about the noise. "Shite."

"Ignore that. Clara won't let him come back here, but we should be quieter." Hermione eagerly kissed him back, tangling her fingers in his hair.

It didn't go unnoticed that she ground down against his knee strategically placed between her thighs. Flush against him, he delighted in every weak sound she made under her breath.

"I was thinking the opposite, actually. I ought to"—his fingers skimmed her sides, brushing the sides of her breasts—"make cry out even louder. But not yet."

Hermione's eyes widened, darkening as they did, and her lips were swollen. "You are a menace, Draco Malfoy." He grinned before making the most of the few moments they had left.

Later when he slipped out the front door, Draco made sure to disillusion himself as he strengthened the wards around her home.

* * *

She was in over her head, not that she minded when it came to her disarmingly handsome blond neighbor. Every rational thought tended to leave her when he was around—not that it had caused anything unsavoury—but she found that she was happier for it.

Hermione had always been happy in her quiet life with Scorpius. Granted, there was the tiniest part of her that always surged up to remind her that something was missing. Most nights they all had dinner together, and each time he'd listened to story after story from Scorpius. Some nights, they even stole the shortest few minutes together afterward with her back pressed to the nearest wall. Hermione found that as she grew closer to Draco, she pondered the state of her amnesia less and less.

That was what it was: amnesia.

The way others looked at her still made her sick to her stomach. The pity they always gave her, and the thinly veiled nosiness that followed her everywhere she went. _Oh, that's the woman who has no memory. _

_She has a son. Do you think the father had something to do with—_and then they would greet her as if they hadn't been whispering about her.

The gossip hadn't necessarily improved at the same pace her life had, but it _had _shifted dramatically. There were two facts that were irrefutable—though she knew they didn't directly correlate—that had sent every gossiping mother and grandmother spiraling.

Scorpius had white blond hair, a shade that could have been its own trademark.

Hermione did not have blonde hair. She was a solid brunette with messy curls that broke nearly every elastic she attempted to use.

She did her best not to think of it so it wouldn't have the chance to upset her, but Clara had brought it up and Hermione ignored the lead hardening in her stomach.

"Marissa is an old hag!" Clara's knitting needles clicked together. "I set her straight, however. Don't you worry, she won't be discussing Draco and Scorpius again."

Her son had already hurried toward the back of the home, fetching several toys even though he would only play with one. "She implied Draco was his father?"

Clara nodded. "Ridiculous. They have the same colour hair."

_Well, their eyes are also absurdly grey. _

Still furiously knitting, Clara held up the scarf. "Do you like this one?"

Hermione laughed. "It looks great, as always. Don't feel obligated to—"

Knitting needles were suddenly pointed toward her. "Of course I'm going to defend you. _All_ of you. You and Scorpius are family, and if the pantry incident is to be considered, Draco will be, too."

Heat flooded her cheeks. "That wasn't—I was searching for—"

Clara arched a dark brow. "I was young once, too. I spent plenty of time in alcoves in school—some of those even involved a hand up my uniform skirt."

Scorpius stomped into the room. He'd already ditched his shoes in favour of sliding across the floor. "Can we make cookies?"

"Sure, dear. Would you like to get the bowl out?" As Scorpius left the room, Clara smirked. "Draco's a nice man. I'm glad you're happy."

"Yeah," Hermione breathed. "Me too. Are you sure you're alright with Scorpius staying the night tonight? It's only inventory. I could pick him up after."

"Oh, no. I promised him a marathon on the telly for the next time he stays over, and he'll be furious if I shirk on that promise. Perhaps you ought to spend some time with Draco."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Nosey."

"Helpful." Clara smiled.

* * *

Hermione shelved the last of the books, wiping her palms on her sweater as she looked over the shop once more. Having already sent Victoire home, any leftover mess had been hers to clean. Once the last of it was dealt with—aside from dusting—Hermione snatched her keys from the counter and locked the door on her way out.

Brisk wind met her cheeks, and as she pulled her jacket tighter, she noticed Draco leaning against a nearby lamppost. "You haven't been waiting out here long, have you? It's nearly midnight."

"Is it?" He pushed away from the post. "I must have lost track of time around the same time I lost feeling in my fingers."

Hermione took three quick steps toward him, cupping his hands in her own. "You're joking."

He snorted. "I'm perfectly fine. I—uh, well, I didn't like the idea of you walking home alone so late. Do you mind if I walk with you?"

She had the urge to tease him, but the nervous look on his face was so endearing she couldn't do it. "That sounds like a perfect way to end my night." Hermione slid her arm through his and walked with him. "How was your day?"

"It was dreadfully boring. I showed the intern around the filing room."

"Oh? Was she as irritating as before?"

"Not after I told her I wasn't interested."

Hermione choked. "You let her down easily I assume?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I told her I was already seeing someone and she seemed to take the hint. How was yours?"

"I've been at the store for the last seven hours taking inventory after we had numerous issues. It's gone about as well as you can imagine. Scorpius is staying with Clara for the night, but she's probably asleep right now while he's sitting in front of the telly."

They reached her home sooner than she wanted. Draco unlatched the gate, walked her to her door, and lingered for a moment as she fished her keys from her handbag. "I'd invite you in, but I'm dead on my feet," Hermione said quietly. "Next time?"

He smirked, and warmth pooled in her belly as she recalled a vivid memory of him nipping her throat while they locked themselves in the pantry. "I wasn't hoping for anything. I just wanted to see you home."

_Well, a few minutes wouldn't hurt._

* * *

**All my love to dreamsofdramione and mcal for their work on this story. **


	10. Chapter 10

**We're in double digits now, guys! That's so crazy to me. Anyway, I'm uploading this chapter one day earlier because I'm running the store from open to close tomorrow and Wednesday. I'm not going to want to do anything once I get home. **

**All my love to mcal and dreamsofdramione for their ironclad friendships and editing skills. **

* * *

Rolling her eyes, Hermione watched as Scorpius gently poked Crooks, waking him from that morning's second nap. Unexpectedly, the kettled whistled just as the phone rang, and Hermione jumped. She hadn't been expecting a call. Picking up the receiver, she held it to her ear, and wrapped the cord around her finger. "Hello?"

"Hermione, you'll never believe my rotten luck." From the roughness of her voice, Hermione could guess. "I'm ill, and contagious."

"Oh, that's alright. I can take the day off. The shop is fully staffed today—"

Clara cleared her throat. "_Or_, you might find it beneficial to allow Draco to watch Scorpius for the day again. Things are getting serious, aren't they?"

She wasn't sure if it was wise to tempt fate by agreeing, or if she should even consider it. They'd only known him for a few short weeks. Granted, those weeks had been filled with laughter that made her cheeks hurt and robbed her of air. "What are you implying?"

Scorpius sniggered as Crooks rolled onto his back, baring his belly for tummy rubs. It was a trap, but her son fell for it every time, and their oversized cat nipped at his hands. "How would you like it if I bit _you_?"

"Don't bite Crooks," Hermione hissed, turning back to the phone. "Clara..."

Clara sighed. "You're getting rather close, and that's wonderful, but eventually you'll need to introduce your relationship to Scorpius. Now, that's not to say that you should do that immediately, but preparing for it wouldn't be a bad thing."

"I don't know." Hermione chewed her lower lip.

"They had a fantastic day last time. Scorpius told me all about it. It was all he'd talk about for the rest of the week."

Hermione knew that. Drawing a breath, she swallowed immediately after. "Alright, I'll pop over to Draco's and ask. Get well soon. Would you like me to go by the grocery for you?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll do it anyway." Clara snorted. "Just the usual soup if you please. I'll see you later"

The line disconnected and Hermione laid the phone in the cradle. "Scorpius? Put your coat on, we're going to Draco's." Before the words were fully out of her mouth, he'd jumped to his feet, and snatched his coat that was draped over the chair. "Why don't you get dressed that fast all the time?"

He cocked his head to side with a smug little grin that she'd probably loathe once he entered the teenage years. "It's Draco, Mum." He spun on his heel with a flourish. Whenever they got to the point of telling him, _if _they did, Scorpius certainly wasn't going to have any qualms about her relationship with Draco.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Draco said yes the second she'd asked. In fact, she hadn't finished her question before the agreement passed his lips, and she shared a smile with him as Scorpius lingered on the lawn. But, the quiet moment dissipated as soon as it had arrived.

"I do have to work today. It's office work, so if you don't mind me taking him in with me for a few hours…" Draco trailed off. "It's really no trouble, and we wouldn't be there long."

She wasn't sure if a police station was the best place for a six year old boy, but Hermione conceded. "You'll keep him out of trouble? He won't see anyone who's a criminal, will he?" As she glanced away, finding her son bent over and plucking at the blades of grass, Hermione saw his eyes darken. "Draco?"

He shook his head. "Of course not. I wouldn't allow that to happen, and yes, I'll keep him out of trouble. We'll grab lunch and bring it to you after?"

_Well, when he put it that way.._

Hermione nodded. "That's perfect. I'll look forward to it." She watched his eyes flick to her lips. "Don't even think about it."

He chuckled. "I have a pantry."

She turned away from him, running her fingers along the vein on the inside of his wrist. "You know, I prefer beds over pantries. Just… information for next time."

Draco's eyes narrowed but she didn't look away as a sense of triumph swept through her.

"Scorpius"—she ruffled his hair as she crouched beside him—"Draco's going to watch you for the day, okay? He has to work for a few hours, so you're to be on your best behavior."

He looked from her to Draco with wide eyes. "_Really?_ Thanks, Mum!" Scorpius threw his arms around her neck, giving her a tight squeeze, before rushing to Draco.

Laughing under her breath, Hermione suddenly wasn't sure who her son liked more.

* * *

Once he'd arrived home, Scorpius had asked if Draco could watch him sometimes. _Maybe not just when Clara's ill? _

Which had been quickly followed by _I don't want Clara to think I hate her._

It had been cute. Hermione giggled when she'd tucked him into bed, ruffling his hair as he protested just that. She'd kissed him on the forehead, and he'd drifted to sleep while she lingered in the doorway.

That had been three nights ago. All three nights, Scorpius had woken her with a fit of screams that sunk so far into her bones that she'd grabbed the bat in her wardrobe on instinct. He hadn't nightmares for well over two years. In the same, time she'd convinced him that there were no monsters under his bed—or in the wardrobe—so the sudden reappearance was odd.

His little hands were clammy, and his face a bright red as he hyperventilated. Tears streaked his cheeks as Hermione pushed the door open. "Love," she breathed, taking a seat beside him as he rubbed his face with the blankets. "What's wrong?"

He'd refused to tell her both nights before. Each time she asked, Scorpius twisted away from her, and didn't say a word. Considering his usual honesty, even when it landed him in trouble, Hermione wasn't sure what to make of it. "Sweetheart, I can't help if I don't know what's going on." She rubbed his back when he slumped forward. "You can tell me anything."

Faint sobs wracked his frame. "I don't want to get in trouble"

"You won't—"

"Draco doesn't know."

Her blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"

Scorpius shook his head. "I like when he watches me. We have fun and—"

Her nails bit into her palm as one hand curled into a tight fist. "Scorpius, it's important to be honest. You're not going to get in trouble." _Especially_ if it wasn't his fault, and if it was—

She didn't want to follow that train of thought.

He swallowed and turned to bury his face in her chest. "Draco had to talk to someone. I sat at his work. There was a folder, and I don't think I was meant to open it, but I did."

She wrapped her arms around him. "Scorpius, what did you see?"

Several seconds passed. "She was hurt. Her head was bleeding. I couldn't see her face."

Realisation knocked into her, quickly followed by rage. She knew Scorpius had likely seen photos from the murder Draco had mentioned weeks earlier. It had been a topic of gossip and she _knew_ that girl had been bludgeoned to death.

And Scorpius had seen it.

Hermione remained in place as he cried against her chest until his breathing slowed. Laying him down, and dragging the blankets to cover him, Hermione waited, with him for twenty minutes to be sure he was asleep. Quietly closing the door, save for a crack to let the light in, she hurried down the stairs and stepped into her flats while wrapping a thin jacket around her.

Even though it was two o'clock in the morning, she didn't particularly care if she woke Draco as she banged on his front door. It swung open seconds later, revealing him fully dressed in pyjamas, brows furrowed.

"Hermione? Is Scorpius okay? Are you—"

She cut him off, her voice vicious and loud—damn the neighbors—and pinned him with a harsh glare. "No, he's not fucking okay because of you!"

All the colour drained from his face as Draco held up his hands. "Wait, I haven't—"

"Done anything?" Hermione finished with a hiss. "I think you and I both know that's not true. I can't believe I let him go to work with you! In fact, I can't believe I trusted my _son_ with you at all!"

Draco flinched. "Hermione, I don't know what's going on, but I would never intentionally hurt Scorpius." Sincerity coated each word, and somehow that made it even worse.

Bracing her hands against her hips, she stared up at him, her gaze harsh and unforgiving. "What were you thinking, leaving the file for that poor girl's murder on your desk where my son could pick it up. Haven't we joked that he's a nosy child? What were you _thinking?_" Each word was emphasized, almost a growl.

He squeezed his eyes shut, fingers closing around the frame of the door. "I had no idea."

"That's obvious and possibly worse. He's woken up screaming for the last three nights because he saw that girl with her head fucking smashed in! Do you want to know what makes me even more angry?"

Draco didn't say anything, but she saw his throat throb when he swallowed.

"He didn't want to tell me because he didn't want me to be angry with you. He didn't want _you _to be angry with _him _for snooping. And you know what else? Scorpius asked me the night he came home if he could spend more time with you." Hermione shook her head. "I don't know what I was thinking when I considered saying yes?"

"Hermione, wait—"

He reached for her, but she stepped backwards.

"I don't want to hear your apologies. Whatever they are, they're not good enough."

His expression splintered, and she couldn't imagine where he got off believing he could look so crestfallen. "I'm so sorry. I had _no _idea. I would have never—" His voice broke and his eyes watered.

She dropped down the steps. "I know you're sorry, but that's not enough." Hermione didn't look back, not even when she knew he was still lingering on his porch.

Hoping she'd come back.

* * *

The all encompassing pain in his chest could only be compared to one other moment in his life, and that was the moment he'd watched Granger vanish in the middle of the final battle, swallowed up by a dark purple haze. He waited for her to get home, waited for the last of the lights to shut off except for the one he knew Hermione left on for Scorpius.

Fuck.

_Scorpius... _

He'd really fucked up. Raking his fingers through his hair, he turned and found Potter's face still hovering in his fireplace. "Heard all that?"

Potter winced. "Yeah, mate, you'll—"

"I knew I was going going to fuck this up."

"Draco, it's a mistake, but that doesn't mean everything is going to shite now. It's temporary… shite." Harry withered under Draco's glare.

"I thought you said you heard that."

Potter sighed. "Clearly, you're not in the mood to talk, but if you decide you are—"

"Not likely."

"—you know where I'll be."

* * *

Draco knew she must have needed space. Three days later, though, he wasn't sure if he was staying away to placate that fact, or if it was because he was a coward. Potter's Floo calls went unanswered, and Draco had half a mind to disconnect it entirely. He would have if it weren't for Robards. If the man _did_ call for a status report directly—and he would soon if Draco didn't let Potter know he hadn't drank himself into a stupor—and Draco _didn't _answer… Well, Draco didn't particularly want to ponder the consequences of that.

He didn't stop by her home unannounced, though he did sulk on his sofa while wondering if she was thinking of him during what should have been their dinner spent together. Or, his traitorous mind hedged, perhaps Granger wasn't that attached to him, and this was exactly the sort of thing that would make her discontinue seeing him all together.

Nor did he conveniently stop by the bookshop.

All the while, he continued to wonder if she was missing him as well. It was clear at least one person in the Granger household did. Draco had woken to find Crooks in his house, meowing indignantly at an empty bowl he'd knocked off the table. He had no idea how the half-Kneazle had gotten in, but fed him instead.

Crooks was curled up at the foot of his bed while Draco stared at the parcel in front of him. He was old enough to not be afraid of bad news, which the envelope undoubtedly contained. Nothing was ever easy when it came to him—not a complaint, just a blanket statement that still rang true.

Swallowing, he ripped it open, and chuckled when Crooks snarled in his sleep. "You are a violent, little thing."

There was no need to read the document. By skimming the first page alone, Draco already knew, and his stomach sank. Still, he read it several more times, willing the dried ink on the page to morph into different words. "Fuck!"

Crooks cracked one eye open.

Draco looked down at him, watching him stretch across the sheets and sink his claws into them. "Sure, make yourself at home."

_Meow_.

"Merlin, I'm so fucked." He raked his fingers through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp.

With another meow, this one angrier than the last, Crooks sat up and stared at the pieces of parchment littering the bed. He tilted his head to the side, and when Draco smoothed the fur down at the crown of his head, Crooks leaned into him.

"They won't dissolve the engagement," Draco whispered, and his stomach twisted. "I don't know if I can get out of it."

Trotting over, Crooks climbed into his lap while looking up at him.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this. You don't understand, do you?"

There was a feral hiss followed by a sound that Draco _thought _was a growl before Crooks leapt out of his lap and shredded the contract. He snorted, a sense of misery still lingering as he looked over the bed now filled with shredded bits of parchment.

"That's what I think about it, too."

* * *

It had been the right choice, Hermione repeatedly assured herself. She believed that as she ran through the facts _again_ because at the very least, facts were non-negotiable. Allowing Draco to watch over Scorpius wasn't a bad decision, but Draco had been grossly irresponsible.

He ought to have known that file was sitting on the desk.

He ought to have realised anything could happen.

He ought to—

That line of thinking only got her so far before her mind drifted away. While she didn't blame Scorpius in any respect—he was only a child, and the nightmares he'd suffered from had been punishment enough—he should have known not to touch something that didn't belong to him.

Reminding herself of the reasons why Draco had been at fault never remained solid, and she found it to be a miracle that she'd remained steadfast for this long already. A week was a long time when spent away from the person who'd made the past month pass her by in a blur of entangled limbs, and pantries, and laughing until she couldn't breathe.

Not to mention, no matter what she did, the memory of Draco's face when she'd walked away always threatened to split her in two. He'd been seconds from begging for forgiveness, she knew. There had been genuine remorse and shame written into his features.

Hermione should have said that she only needed time to calm down, to contemplate things. She regretted spouting vicious words like _whatever they are, it's not enough. _

And it bothered her every second of every day.

Scorpius wasn't taking it well either. Rightfully upset, she had caught him attempting to sneak out the front door more than once. "_I miss Draco. Mum, please?" _

Knowing all of this, it was really no surprise when Scorpius peered up at her in the middle of the aisle while grocery shopping. "Mum?"

"What is it?" Hermione strained for the last box of cereal on the top shelf. Simply too short, it would have been easier if someone taller was with her. Someone like—

"Can Draco come to dinner tonight?"

The box slipped from her fingers and she fumbled to catch it, whacking her elbow against the shelf. "I—" Hermione broke off, only speaking once her tone was regular. "I'm not sure Draco will want to, love. He and I had a disagreement."

Scorpius stared at the floor. "It's all my fault." He folded his arms over his chest. "Mum, I really miss Draco."

Dropping the box into the trolley, she knelt in front of Scorpius. "Nothing is your fault. Draco and I are adults."

"I want to show him my new books." Scorpius' eyes watered. "I asked Clara for one with a dragon. That's his name, right?"

She couldn't tell him no, not when he was on the verge of tears, and looking at her in that hopeful way. Certainly not when Hermione missed Draco fiercely, too. "I'll talk to him tonight. How does that sound? You can stay with Clara for a bit, and if all goes well, maybe he can come over tonight or tomorrow."

"Really?" Scorpius beamed, and wiped his eyes.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, really."

* * *

She considered herself lucky when Clara didn't ask anything, and merely ushered Scorpius inside after their trip to the store.

Wiping her palms on her jeans, she made the short walk to Draco's, and the same board as always creaked under her feet as she climbed the steps. Before Hermione could talk herself out of it, she knocked lightly on the front door.

A part of her wanted to leave, but that wouldn't do either. While her anger had not been misplaced, avoiding him for days was irrational and childish. The thought of fleeing disappeared as the door swung open.

"If this is a bad time—" Hermione paused, doing her absolute best—and _failing_—not to look at his bare chest. There was a towel wrapped around his waist, and it was quite clear there was nothing underneath.

Draco's eyes were wide, and he shook his head. "_No!_ It's fine. Please come in. I'll just put some clothes on and I'll be right back." He left her at the doorway after closing it behind her.

Swallowing, Hermione paced in front of the sofa. Crooks appeared from around the corner. "So this is where you've been." She took a seat in the middle of the sofa, crossing one leg over the other as her cat curled up on the cushion beside her.

Draco emerged from the corridor moments later, water still rolling off the ends of his hair as he sat next to her. His knee was warm against hers, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. "It's good to see you."

"I'm sorry," Hermione blurted, grasping his knee and sliding closer to him. "After a few days passed, I realised I may have overreacted that night. Scorpius had just woken up for another night in a fit of tears and I—I was so _furious_ that I aimed all of the blame at you. It was an accident."

His eyebrows lifted. "You were right to, and truly, I don't think you overreacted, Hermione. This was a monumental fuck up, and—"

Surging forward, Hermione's hands framed his face, and slanted her lips against his as tangled her fingers in his still wet hair. Whatever he was about to say didn't matter as he pulled her against his chest. "I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, "I can't stop thinking about how much I missed snogging you."

"I assure you that feeling is entirely mutual." Draco chuckled.

Pulling away, Hermione tucked her legs underneath her. "Now that I can think straight, we do need to have a serious conversation about what happened last week."

His eyes darkened.

"I'm sorry if this sounds strange or too forward given the short time we've known each other, but Scorpius has missed you like mad. _I've _missed you like mad."

Draco's expression softed. "That's not strange."

She sighed in relief. "I've never allowed anyone into Scorpius' life, Draco. When this happened, I… My first thought was that it had been a mistake, but I don't believe that, not really. I know I said cruel things that night, but I hope you'll be able to forgive me."

"You'll find there's nearly nothing I wouldn't forgive you for." Twisting a curl around his finger, his smile was somber.

"I don't know how to say this," Hermione bit her bottom lip. "It's almost embarrassing to say, but I've never let someone I've dated into his life, Draco. I was afraid—still am, actually—of what would happen if we tell him we're dating and then this ends."

Draco tilted her head up. "Hermione—"

"I'm not asking you to promise me anything. I don't want it to sound like that, but the only way this can continue is if there's a chance it's as serious for you as it is for me. While we shopped for dinner today, Scorpius cried in the middle of the store because he missed seeing you at dinner."

"He… did?"

Hermione nodded. "He adores you, but I can't let you into his life as someone important to _me_ if I'm not—"

Draco pulled her into his lap, hands gripping her hips while he kissed her hard. "I missed _you_." His hands slid up her sides. "I missed Scorpius. And if you're asking me if this is serious, if you're _important _to me, the answer is yes. It's always been yes."

The _always _sounded odd, but Hermione grinned at the flowery language, and rolled her hips against his. "Perfect," she purred. "However, my son is expecting you for dinner in fifteen minutes, so unless you're quick—"

He snorted. "There will be nothing quick about _that_ and our first time certainly won't be on my sofa."

Hermione's eyes brightened. "What about the second?"

"Teasing little witch." Draco dragged her lips back to his.

* * *

Draco and Scorpius argued over the representation of dragons in Scorpius' new book that night at dinner. He insisted that dragons wouldn't be so friendly if snuck up on—while casting a humoured look toward Hermione—and Scorpius muttered that all he had to do was be kin, and it would be fine. It was likely the most bizarre debate to ever happen at her dinner table, and Hermione suspected there would be several more if Draco was involved.

At least, she hoped that was the case.

After putting Scorpius to bed by resorting to bribery that they could visit the park the next day, they spent their night on the sofa. She laid her head on Draco's shoulder, and enjoyed the quiet while she read, and he was content to watch her.

It was jarring, but Hermione quickly melted into the domesticity of it.

The next day, Scorpius sprinted for the biggest slide, and waved to them before climbing the steps.

"Thank you for coming with us today." Hermione took a seat on the bench, and straightened her blouse. "Not that Scorpius gave you much of a choice."

Draco snorted. "I'm happy to come." He took the seat next to her, sliding his arm around her shoulders. "There's something I want to ask you, but it's personal."

Hermione clapped as Scorpius reached the bottom of the slide. "You can ask me anything you like."

He fidgeted with the edge of her jumper. "Would you be uncomfortable if I asked you about Scorpius' father?"

She tensed. "Ask me anything, but I can't guarantee I can answer your questions. What with, well, you already know."

"I just wanted to ask if you think you could ever forgive him."

No one had ever asked her that. They'd asked probing questions, rude questions, but never if she would forgive the man that was a stranger to her. Hermione watched her son wave from the top of the slide and swallowed. "I like to think I could, if he had a good reason for what kept him away. I just don't know who would want to miss out on him."

"Yeah." Draco let his head fall back and he was staring at the sky. When she looked over, his eyes met hers and a chill ran down her spine. "I can't imagine anyone who would willingly choose to miss a moment with the two of you."

* * *

**I bet you thought they weren't going to resolve their issues by the end of the chapter. Next chapter is my favorite in the entire story. It's six thousand words and well, you'll have to see! I'd love to hear what you thought. **

**Until next week. **


	11. Chapter 11

**I know this chapter is a couple of days late, but real life has not been kind to anyone recently, and it's been a long month. But to make up for it, it's twice as long as normal. I'm grateful for dreamsofdramione and mcal for being my beta and alpha. **

**I would like to take this moment to remind you that this story is rated M, so if you're not a fan of sexual content, you may skip part of this chapter. **

* * *

Hermione wasn't quite ready to introduce Scorpius to their recently changed relationship, but she suspected her son had already noticed. Still, Scorpius stuck to discussing books and random topics with Draco over the dinner table every night.

That was another interesting thing. No one else had ever stepped up for Scorpius, yet Draco delighted in it. She saw raw happiness flicker across his face each time his name was called with childlike whimsy and she found her heart clenching even when she expected it.

They made time for one another in between other commitments. He visited her for lunch when she couldn't get away from work, and Victoire would always let her know her boyfriend was there in a sing-song voice that Hermione still couldn't hold back a quiet laugh over. When he got the chance—or when she allowed, as he seemed hesitant to ask—Draco took her to dinner. Most of the time, he invited Scorpius as well.

It felt like the perfect picture of happiness, and most of the time Hermione didn't dwell on the way they'd slipped so easily into domesticity.

That was, until tonight. Scorpius lugged a bin down the stairs, the one that was filled to the brim with board games they had accumulated over the years.

Draco met her gaze over the table while she carded her fingers through her hair. "What's that?" he asked, kneeling beside Scorpius.

Picking up her mug, Hermione made her way to the sofa in front of them, crossing her ankles while taking a long drink. "Board games." A wry grin twisted her lips. "He's been itching to beat you in cards this week."

His eyebrows nearly shot into his hairline. "You might win… _if_ I let you," Draco drawled.

Scorpius' head snapped up, his lips pressing into a thin line. "We'll see about that."

Leaning back, Hermione dragged the blanket draped over the sofa around her shoulders and watched them. She spent the majority of her time hiding her smile behind her mug, even long after she'd run out of tea, but she couldn't pull herself away long enough to pour herself another cup.

When Scorpius suggested they play poker, Draco blindly accepted. Hermione knew he hadn't thought anything of it. Scorpius was only six, soon to be seven in January, and surely a six-year-old wouldn't know anything about poker. Except he did, because there were only so many ways to pass time when the power temporarily went out and her son was a quick learner.

"What do I win?" Scorpius beamed.

Sputtering, Draco pulled his wallet from his back pocket. "I'm not entirely sure what just happened."

"Looks like he tricked you." Hermione snorted. "Why on earth would you make a bet with a child?"

Scorpius interjected, "Hey!"

"I thought I was going to win, obviously," Draco muttered, sliding two bills across the table.

Hermione's brow lifted. "Oh, so you meant to make _him _pay _you?"_

"I didn't say that." Draco's knee bumped against the coffee table.

Still giggling, Hermione set her mug on the table and ushered Scorpius up to bed. "I'll bring the games up later. I'll be up to read to you in fifteen minutes, okay? Make sure you're in bed before I come up there!" She watched as he rushed upstairs.

Standing in the middle of her living room, Draco slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. As she neared him, he pulled them out once more, sliding the index finger of either hand through her belt loops and tugging her forward. Her chest bumped his and he leaned down. "You knew he was going to hustle me, didn't you?"

"I taught him well." Hermione laughed lightly, stretching up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Is this where you tell me you weren't even trying?"

Draco's lips skimmed the shell of her ear, his breath fanning across it. "I'd love to say that, but lying is impolite. But," he murmured, hands gripping her hips. "I have to wonder if you'd beat me just as badly."

Tilting her head up, Hermione gave a lazy smile. "Oh, I'm quite certain it would be rather embarrassing for you."

He smirked. "We'll have to test that theory another night then."

A weak sound rolled off her tongue when he kissed her.

"Quiet," he reminded gently. "I don't want him to get curious and I'm going to enjoy the minute of alone time I get with you." Draco walked her backwards, hiding her from sight in case her son did choose to peer down the stairwell. His fingers tangled in her hair, mussing it as his lips slanted against hers.

One hand slid along the sliver of skin that was revealed as her jumper lifted.

Hermione wasn't ready to let go of him, but if she was completely honest, she found that she never was. "Did you say you'll have time off work this weekend?"

Draco shook his head, fingers threading through hers. "I was meant to, but something's come up. I doubt it takes long, but it's going to take up my Saturday night and likely most of Sunday."

His thumb traced the bow of her lips before she realised she was pouting. "Well, in case you're not busy, you're always welcome to come by."

"It would be late, Hermione. There's no chance I'd make it to dinner. Are you working next weekend?"

"No." Hermione froze when she heard a bump right over their heads.

He murmured, "Perfect," while dragging her lips back to his, seemingly aware that they were running out of time. "Will you let me take you to dinner? If Clara can—"

"She can." Hermione sounded too eager and heat rose in her cheeks. "I mean, I'll make it work."

His chuckle was low and his chest rumbled against hers as he kissed her one last time.

* * *

**_Floorboards creaked beneath their combined weight as he guided her backwards, and the wall was flush against the curve of her spine. A sharp chill soaked into her skin as he tugged her jumper up, sliding his hands over her hips. His fingers traced slow circles over her skin and he nibbled her lower lip._**

"_Granger," he rasped, his tone hushed as a gust of air whistled past the rickety windowpane behind them. "I told you—"_

_Knotting her fingers in his hair roughly and dragging her nails across his scalp, Hermione earned a stuttered groan from him. "You told me to stay put," she breathed. "That's not an option, however."_

_His lips twisted into a grimace. "I can't stop you from going on the hunt, and I would never try to, but breaking into Gringotts—"_

"—_was the only option. It's alright. I'm here now, aren't I?" Cradling his face, Hermione pulled him back to her, whimpering lowly as he wedged a knee between her thighs. "We need to make the most of tonight."_

"_Here today, gone tomorrow," Draco muttered, his hand flattening at the small of her back. Guiding them towards the bed, and smirking when the tell-tale creak made her giggle. "I hate this."_

_Hermione nodded, straddling his hips. "It'll all be worth it. You'll see."_

* * *

_Sunlight cut across the bed, and Hermione rolled over, her hand finding Draco's chest. Her leg was slung over his, and his arm was locked tightly around her. Peeking over the edge of the bed, she saw their clothing littered across the floor. Her knickers had landed on the bedpost._

_Typical._

"_Where do you think you're going?" Draco fingers flexed against her back._

_Hermione bit her lower lip._

"_You're leaving early today then, I take it?" Lips brushed the top of her head, but he hadn't let her go yet. "Were you trying to sneak out without saying goodbye?"_

_Guilt blossomed in the pit of her stomach. "I was going to leave a note," she admitted carefully. "I have to do this."_

_He nodded, his eyes still closed. "I know. I support you."_

"_It won't always be this way."_

_She propped herself up on her elbow as Draco cracked one eye open. "I should hope not, but even when Potter wins, there's no guarantee the Ministry won't throw me in with the rest of the Death Eaters."_

_Her eyes narrowed and Hermione blew out a harsh breath. "They would sorely regret attempting it. You're not a Death Eater, no matter what's on your arm. That doesn't define you."_

"_I let them into Hogwarts." Much like he always did, Draco shrugged. _

_Swallowing, she cupped his cheek, and a soft smile graced her lips when he leaned into her. "You left them, too."_

"_Come here," he whispered. "I never know how long you'll be gone." Draco rolled her onto her back, pressing into her._

* * *

**It was a Tuesday morning when she shot up, roused from a deep sleep, and she clutched at her throat. Sweat had formed on her brow, and there was a familiar ache between her thighs.**

It had been a dream, she was certain of it. Even now, she was barely holding onto the explicit images that had cut right through her.

Draco… but not quite.

Perhaps a younger version of him even though it had been harsher than the one she now knew.

Scorpius yelled from the bathroom, and whatever thought she'd been untangling—as convoluted as it was—was gone.

* * *

**"****I'm not sure it's worth coming in for," Hermione began hesitantly, twisting the phone cord around her index finger. The house was quiet, a strange change in pace since Scorpius was out shopping with Clara today. "But Dr. Caron has always told me to call if anything seemed odd."**

"Of course." The receptionist's voice was so perky it was nauseating for nine o'clock in the morning. "What is it exactly that you're experiencing?"

She hesitated, her hand stilling. It sounded so… bizarre in her head. Surely her physician would find it just as such. "Each morning I've woken up with headaches," Hermione started slowly. "This is out of the norm for me."

"Mmm. Let me just mark that down. Is there anything else you'd like Dr. Caron to know?"

Swallowing, Hermione cleared her throat. "I'm not sure if it's related, but it seems I'm having terrible headaches just after I wake up from a dream. I don't remember the dream. I just—I realise how ridiculous this sounds."

"Not at all."

"But given my medical history, I think it'd be best to schedule an appointment for the soonest available." Knocking the toe of her shoe against the wall trim, Hermione did her best to sound unbothered. It would end up being nothing—at least the subject of her dreams that she couldn't even recall—and developing migraines would just be another note in her medical record.

Just another side effect of long term amnesia.

It's probably nothing to worry about, Hermione coached herself, but even _she _didn't believe it.

The clerk popped her bubblegum on the other end of the line. "Absolutely. Our soonest available slot would be on Thursday at two o'clock. Could you make that work?"

She was meant to work, but Victoire would be there as well, so there wouldn't be an issue if she made the trip on her break. Clara would already have Scorpius.

"Yes. That's perfect."

It was probably nothing.

* * *

When Draco mentioned meeting her for lunch since he'd be busy for most of the weekend, Hermione was crestfallen to tell him she couldn't. "I have a doctor's appointment." Hermione had apologised, tucking her legs under her as they lounged on his sofa.

"It's not a problem. Routine check-ups must be important, given your…" He trailed off, jaw clenched.

She wasn't altogether sure what made her blurt out the truth, but the words were out of Hermione's mouth before she could stop them. "It's not a normal appointment," Hermione said, and his eyes narrowed. "Actually, I have semi-annual physicals to observe any damage from the accident, and I'm not due for another until March."

"I see." He exhaled. His knuckles were a stark white as his hands curled into fists, resting on his knees. "Are you alright?"

Tilting her head to the side, and resting her cheek in her palm, Hermione didn't know what to say. "I'm not sure." The fire crackled and she stared at the flickering flames before sighing. "I'll sound mad if I tell you."

"I've heard plenty of things that are mad. Somehow I doubt this will be one of them." He twisted a curl around his finger. "But I don't want you to feel obligated to tell me."

With a smile tugging at the edge of her lips, Hermione shook her head. "If there's anyone I would want to tell, it'd be you. In the last week or so, I've started waking with vicious headaches. I've never had them like that before." She scooted closer to him, her knee pressed against his thigh as his arm rested on the back of the sofa. "And, I have a theory that they started around the same time as my dreams."

Draco stiffened and sat straight up. "Dreams?"

"I know it sounds—"

"What kind of dreams?" Panic edged his tone as he stared down at her. "Hermione?"

Her mouth was dry but swallowing didn't help. "I don't—I don't have any idea. I have no memory of them, but I know when I've had one." She'd been wrong in thinking he believed her theory was wildly off-kilter. No, he seemed to believe her completely. "But, it sounds preposterous to me. I'm surprised the receptionist didn't laugh at me over the phone."

Without saying another word, Draco leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. "I believe you."

* * *

**Doctor Caron reviewed her chart as she sat on the cot, her legs crossed while she fidgeted with her hands. The only sound in the room was when he made a non-committal noise of observation, and there was no way to tell if it was good or bad. Pages turned as he hooked his foot in the bar of his stool, and rolled it forward. Sinking into his seat, he adjusted his glasses. "Beyond the headaches, have you experienced any other problems?"**

"No."

"And the dreams?"

She immensely regretted mentioning that after having time to pour over it. "I shouldn't have mentioned them. I doubt they're related. I was just attempting to come to a conclusion on my own."

His hair had lost more colour than the last time she'd seen him. Dr Caron was pushing sixty, but she'd never seen him act like he was losing energy. "I wouldn't brush it off so quickly if I were you, Hermione. There have been cases where victims of long-term amnesia begin to remember certain events that have been repressed."

Eyes wide, Hermione resisted the urge to laugh awkwardly. "Doctor, I really think these are just headaches. Albeit, terrible, head-splitting headaches."

Heaving a sigh, he dragged his pen across the page. "That may well be, but in theory, you could remember something and forget it again. It's only a theory right now, but I've always wondered if your memories might resurface. Has anything changed in your life recently?"

"No," Hermione said quickly. "Well, I've met someone, but that's not related."

He ripped the slip of paper from the notepad. "There's no way to know at the moment in any case. Here is a prescription for medicine to help with your headaches, but if they continue or get worse, call my office immediately. Or my home number. You still have it, I assume?"

She nodded, gripping the slip of paper tightly in her hand as he wished her a good rest of the day and walked her to the lobby.

* * *

**Draco made good on his promise to take her to dinner.**

Hermione had come home to a note stashed in her mailbox. Written on heavy stationary—with a border that she would have lingered on had she not been so excited to read it—were simple instructions. Or a request, depending on how she looked at it. He'd told her to dress nicely but left no hints as to where they would be going.

With Scorpius already at Clara's, Hermione found herself with a few extra minutes to get ready. Pulling the only formal dress she owned from her wardrobe, Hermione stepped into the black dress that she'd been gifted last Christmas from her sitter. Struggling to zip herself up, Hermione caught sight of herself in the mirror and giggled. She looked positively ridiculous.

She'd have to ask Draco to zip her up when he arrived, which Hermione imagined would be any minute considering his tendency to be early. Hermione passed the time by applying the smallest amount of makeup. As she swiped mascara across her lashes for the last time, there was a knock at the front door and she bounded down the stairs, her heels in her hands.

Hermione looked out the peephole, catching sight of white-blond hair and allowed the door to swing open. "Thank God you're early. Can you zip me up?"

He snorted, a wide smile spreading across his face. "With pleasure." Draco lifted his foot, kicking the door shut behind him as he motioned for her to turn around.

A shiver rolled down her spine when his fingers slid across her skin slowly—deliberately—and she lifted her chin, glancing back at him.

Wearing the trademark smirk that she'd become accustomed to, Draco dipped his head and kissed a slow path down her neck. "You look stunning," he murmured, lightly nipping her sensitive flesh as he pulled the zipper upward. "I've been looking forward to this all week."

She whimpered, pressing her back closer to him. And if she was ever asked, she'd swear it was an accident that she wiggled her arse against his pelvis. "Were you looking forward to going to dinner, or—" Whatever she'd been about to say died on her tongue.

Draco abandoned her zipper, instead gripping her hips tightly as he massaged circles through the thin fabric. There was no mistaking the feel of his erection when she ground against it without a second thought. "M-fuck—" Draco hissed and hid his face in the curve of her neck.

Turning in his arms, Hermione reached for him, tangling her fingers in his hair while stretching up on her toes. "We'll be late."

He groaned, the sound vibrating through her while his tongue traced the seam of her lips. "We have a reservation, but I'm caring less and less about that by the second."

She froze, looking up at him. "Reservation? Where are you taking me?"

He wasn't paying attention, too busy allowing his hands to wander up her sides while circling a pulse point on her throat with his tongue. "I forgot the name."

"There's only one restaurant here that takes reservations." She'd never been there. It was far too nice for the once in a while dinners with her son. "Draco? Their pricing is absurd. You don't have to take me—"

His low chuckle caused her to shiver. "The cost is not a problem. Have you ever been?"

She shook her head. Draco's hands slipped from her waist, and she glared at him in disappointment.

"What are you doing?"

He zipped up the back of her dress, brushing her hair out of the way and pressing his lips to the napeof her neck—a sensitive spot she wasn't aware she had. "I'm taking you to dinner, obviously."

"But, we—" she spluttered. "We were having such a nice time…"

Draco lifted her chin with his knuckles, his eyes revealing mischief. "I really do want to take you to dinner. You're just quite distracting with your feminine wiles."

"Oh, you've seen my bare back. Whatever will you do now?" Hermione snorted.

"Imagine the rest of you bare, I imagine," he rasped.

Her heart pounded in her chest. "Oh." Hermione tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. "Have you used that line before or are you just always this charming?"

He grinned. "I'm always this charming."

There was no doubt about that.

* * *

**A man at the door took her coat when they entered, bowing his head with a tight lipped smile as he waved toward the hostess. A brunette seated them, her features pinched whenever she looked at Hermione, and the woman's eyes lingered on Draco a split second too long for Hermione's liking.**

It seemed Draco caught the rapid emotions flickering across her face if his smirk was anything to go by. He caught her hand from across the table, running his thumb over her knuckles while meeting the hostess' eyes.

She scurried away.

"I think you frightened her." Hermione laughed. She looked around the restaurant, drawn to the intricate chandeliers, and the way their light streamed across the room. "This is lovely. Thank you."

Their waitress was polite. She took their orders while giving her opinion one which dish was the better of the two when Hermione couldn't decide.

What caught Hermione by surprise was when Draco stopped their waitress from sweeping away from them as black leather book snapped shut in her hand. "A glass of your finest whiskey, please. And," he glanced at her. "Would you bring a bottle of the best red you have as well?"

Her lips parted and she couldn't force her words out as he looked to her with an eyebrow raised.

"What is it?"

Hermione glanced around them, purposefully keeping her voice low. "You do realise you don't need to ply me with fancy wine in order for me to enjoy your company, don't you?"

"I told you money isn't an issue for me, Hermione."

"That may be so, but a bottle of their finest wine sounds so frivolous. Of course, I'm not judging how you choose to spend your money," Hermione hurried to slip that in there, not at all wanting to sound like she was the controlling sort. "You just don't have to spend that on… me."

Lacing his fingers through hers, Draco smirked. "And if I want to?"

That wasn't the response she was expecting. He never said what she was prepared to hear.

"Hermione," he said softly. "I could make frivolous purchases every day for the rest of my life and I still wouldn't run out of money."

Her thoughts came to a sudden halt, unable to process that. "Pardon?" She managed to thank the waitress as she left the wine with a glass of whiskey for Draco. "What exactly does that mean?"

Draco poured her glass, keeping it at a modest level, and Hermione considered taking the bottle instead. Her nerves hadn't felt so frayed around him for weeks.

His fingers wrapped around his glass. "I've only just realised this has never come up. I enjoy working, but I was born into a very old family with old money."

"Oh," Hermione breathed. "I had no idea."

Which was ridiculous, she seethed at herself quietly. Suddenly, multiple things made sense, and she'd been too struck by his charm to notice. That wasn't like her at all.

"I still think you shouldn't spend mindlessly on me, however."

He snorted. "Of course you don't. Well, I can't make any promises, but I'll reign myself in where I can."

She smiled. "That's good enough."

* * *

**They talked about his childhood, about his parents who conveniently went unnamed, but she was so caught up in his stories that she didn't notice the time. She learned how he had been a well-behaved child but had slipped into slightly rebellious tendencies as he grew into a young adult. However, Hermione doubted those instances were merely 'rebellious,' as he'd worded it.**

She couldn't say much of herself, but she did regale him with a tale of Scorpius racing down the stairs in a laundry basket at age five. "I thought he'd broken his arm." Hermione sighed. "All I heard was this loud thud followed by Crooks meowing. When I came around the corner, I found Scorpius cradling his arm and the basket flipped over."

"But he didn't?" Draco's concern was endearing.

Hermione rested her cheek in her palm, eyeing the bottle of wine that was mostly gone. "He didn't, but we went to Dr. Caron just in case. There wasn't even a sprain, but there should have been. Like magic, I suppose," she joked, swallowing the last of her wine. "Did you do anything like that as a child?"

"I played sports."

"Rugby?"

"Something like that. I never got hurt but I did cause Potter to have a nasty injury. It was my fault."

"Did you do it on purpose?"

He bit his lower lip, regret plain to see.

"No!" Hermione gasped. "You didn't!"

He winced. "I did, and then he later made me look like a fool multiple times."

She giggled. "Sounds like you might have deserved it."

Draco's face softened. "I love when you do that."

"What?"

His foot knocked against hers as his cheeks coloured. "I mean when you laugh. I love the sound of it."

"If we weren't in the middle of a restaurant, I'd snog you senseless." Hermione breathed. "Draco, tonight was—"

"Hermione?" A slurred voice came from the right of her, and she could almost place it. A screech echoed in the room as she looked up. "It _is _you," Adam said loudly as he fell into the chair he'd ripped out from the table beside theirs.

Draco met her panicked gaze, eyes instantly darker as he threw his napkin down. Adam's hand fell to her thigh, hidden under the table, but Draco followed the motion.

Hermione cleared her throat and shoved his hand away. "I'm busy, Adam. I'm having dinner with—"

His attention diverted from her to Draco. "Oh, your kid's father finally came back? You're a real piece of fucking work—"

The colour drained from Draco's face. He yanked Adam out of his seat by his collar. Their silverware gave a sharp clang as it hit their plates, and Hermione watched in horror as Draco hauled the man out of the restaurant.

Scrambling for her handbag, she opened her wallet and threw down more than enough to cover their bill and a decent tip. Grabbing their coats from the rack at the door, Hermione raced outside.

By the time she'd found the two of them, Adam seemed to have said something horrible—how unsurprising—and he swung at Draco.

"Wait, stop!" Hermione cried out.

Draco caught his fist, curving it backward with a hard look claiming his features. He said something, but she couldn't hear it, and there was a sickening crunch when Draco returned the attack in kind.

Blood spurted from Adam's nose, pouring openly down his shirt. He didn't say anything, but he did shoot her a hot glare as he stumbled away.

She rushed toward Draco, their coats slung over her arm as she grabbed his hands. "Are you alright?" Hermione scrutinised him for any injuries that could have occurred before she'd made it outside.

"I'm fine," he confirmed. "Who was that?"

"His name is Adam. I let him buy me dinner once and didn't return his call for a second date." She handed him his coat, shrugging hers over her shoulders. "I paid the bill, by the way."

"Shite." He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. "Fuck, that bottle of wine."

She sniggered. "It was absurdly expensive, yes. But I don't think they're going to allow us back inside after this. Possibly ever."

Sighing, he muttered, "You're probably right."

"But," Hermione began softly, stepping forward and fidgeting with the lapels of his coat. "Due to that obscene bill, I'll let you make it up to me."

"How exactly would one do that? For the record, I _will_ be paying you for the check."

"You will not hear me complaining. I do have bills to pay. As for how you'll make it up to me, I think I'll just have to show you. I imagine you won't have any complaints."

* * *

Casting a look towards the restaurant one last time, Hermione stifled a laugh. The night had taken such a dramatic turn. "Come on," Hermione murmured, taking his good hand and sliding her fingers through it. "It's only a short walk back to mine, and we really need to ice your hand."

Draco stared at his hand, grimacing as he saw the swelling. "It's not that bad," he muttered, allowing her to tug him along.

Barking a laugh, Hermione shook her head. "You're kidding. It's _terrible_."

"Yeah? Well, you should see the other guy."

She might have rolled her eyes, but there was no stopping the laugh that escaped her. "I think out of all the dates I've had, this was the most interesting." Hermione purposefully stepped in a puddle, watching the surface ripple as she leaned against him. "I'm not sure what that says about me."

Draco squeezed her hand, bumping his hip against hers playfully as she brushed her hair from her face. "Fuck, this really hurts."

"I'll bet. His face was pointy, much like someone else—" She cut herself off, mortified, and without a clue where that thought had come from. Hermione hoped that he hadn't noticed.

That was evidently too much to hope for.

"Who were you thinking of just now, Granger?"

Hermione drew her lower lip between her teeth. "No one."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes of course."

He smirked. "So, you weren't about to tell me I have a pointy face."

Dragging a hand down her face, Hermione sighed. "How upset would you be if I did?"

Draco snorted. "Not at all. It's not even the worst I've ever heard. And," he grinned down at her. "I suppose that means you spend a good deal of time staring at me, so why would I be upset by that?"

Hermione gaped at him. "That's not what that means at all. I noticed your… pointiness within minutes of meeting you." _Such as other things, _her thoughts chimed in.

"Mhmm." Draco didn't sound convinced.

It had been a short walk, shorter than she liked, but Hermione supposed that was what happened in small towns. He lingered with her outside of her gate, fingers tapping at his sides. "I had a great—"

"Would you like to come in?" Hermione took a deep breath. "I doubt you have any ice at home and your hand…" She trailed off. God, this was awkward.

His face brightened. "I'd like that."

Leading him up the walkway, Hermione fumbled with her keys as she let them in. "Would you lock the door, please?" Hermione asked, hanging her coat on the hook.

Draco followed her shortly after hanging up his own coat and found her rummaging around in the freezer for a bag of vegetables. He took a seat at the island, resting his forearms against it. "Hermione, you don't have to coddle—"

She shot a sharp glare in his direction. "It's practically my fault you got into a brawl in the first place. The least you can do is let me take care of it. Besides, it's nothing I'm not used to. Scorpius gets into trouble all the time."

The corner of his lips twitched as Hermione laid the bag across his swollen knuckles.

"When he gets into trouble, is this what you do? Grab him an ice pack?"

"If he'll take one." Hermione snorted. "He's stubborn and always insists he's not hurt. He thinks he needs to grow up for me."

His eyes flickered. "What do you mean?"

A heavy weight settled in her chest. It wasn't a particularly pleasant thing to talk about, but if there was anyone to discuss it with…

"Haven't you noticed that he's not like other children? He loves to play, make no mistake about that, but I have to force him to go outside. If I didn't, he'd stay inside to help around the house. Scorpius always picks up his messes—which is partially because he's well-mannered—but I've lost count of the times I've found him trying to make me breakfast."

She eased herself onto the stool beside him. "He doesn't have a father." Hermione sighed, staring at her hands. "Or any positive male influences in his life, so he tries to help more than he should. More than any child can ever be expected to." Tears stung her eyes but she wiped them away. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get emotional."

There was a screech of the stool's legs as he slid closer to her, reaching up to cup her face. "Hey," Draco coaxed, wiping away a tear that rolled down her cheek. "You never have to apologise to me. Anything you're upset about, I'm here to listen to that, too."

She gave him a watery smile. "I've made my peace with it, but I can't expect Scorpius to do the same at his age."

Draco frowned. "I'm so sorry the two of you have been put through this."

"It's not your fault." She sniffled. "How's your hand feeling?"

"I've had worse." He tilted her head up. "I want you to know that you don't have to change the subject." His hand rested on her knee and he squeezed.

Hermione swallowed, steeling her resolve. "I don't have to pick up Scorpius for a few hours, if you'd like to stay, since dinner was cut short."

It was dizzying to be on the receiving end of the way his eyes shifted, darkening noticeably. Warmth gathered in the pit of her stomach.

She wasn't sure who had moved first, but Hermione found herself with her back pressed to the counter. His body was hard against hers, and she let her hands wander over his chest. Draco nipped at her lips as his fingers sunk into her hair, and he pulled the pin from it, letting it fall in soft waves.

Hermione fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt, deftly undoing each one before pushing it over his shoulders. "Oh, my God." She choked, dragging the tip of her finger down the long scar that marred most of his chest from one side to the other. "Draco?"

"I'll tell you about it later," he murmured. "Long story short, it was Potter's fault."

She laughed but let it go.

"Maybe we should move this…" Hermione traced the hard lines of his stomach.

He pulled the zipper of her dress down, and she let it fall to her feet, pooling at her ankles. "Fucking hell," Draco growled, picking her up by her hips with little effort.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, cradling his face in her hands while he carried her through the sitting room. "Wait, your hand. You probably shouldn't—"

He snorted. "Forget about my hand."

Well, there was no need to tell her twice. As he climbed the stairs with her in his arms, Hermione kissed a path down his throat, biting slightly where it met his shoulder. "Last bedroom on the right," she whispered, just barely dragging her nails down his back.

The toe of his shoe met her door and he kicked it open.

Draco sat on the edge of the bed and she straddled his waist. He let out a string of profanities as her bra fell to the floor. "You're impatient." His hands slid up her sides until he cupped her breasts and stroked his thumbs across them.

Hermione grinned. "Are you complaining?"

The two of them fell onto the bed and Draco rolled her onto her back. He hovered over her, his lips sliding against hers before he lowered his head.

His mouth closed around her nipple and she gasped, head falling back to the pillows while she squirmed under him.

"—want to hear you." Draco groaned as his fingers dipped between her legs.

Between weak moans, Hermione barely managed his name, which fell away from her over and over again. She hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him flush against her while she lifted her hips to grind against him. "Draco, you're teasing."

Eyes bright, he slid down her body. "This is called foreplay and I take great _pleasure_," the word easily rolled off his tongue, "in being good at everything I do."

Hermione shook her head. "Next time."

Evidently, it didn't look like he'd ever been told that before. "What—"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione used his surprise to push him onto his back and climbed to sit on his lap again. "You know, _next time_," she whispered, leaning down where her lips brushed his, "can come immediately after this. We have a few hours."

Nails bit into her sides as he gripped the swell of her hips.

Hermione shifted off of him for a moment, dragging her knickers down her legs, and tossing them into the floor.

His underwear followed quickly.

Eyes settling on the length of him, Hermione eagerly crawled into his lap again, a grin curving her lips. Reaching between them, she wrapped her fingers around him and slid down without any of the _slowness_ that he was so fond of.

Draco choked. "Fuck!"

Setting a slow pace, Hermione rocked against him, her breasts pressed to his chest. "Oh, _oh!"_ Hermione mewled as he sat up, locking his arms around her as he thrust up to meet her. "Draco!"

"You feel fucking incredible." Draco murmured into her collarbone, laving the sensitive flesh there.

There would be marks in the morning where her fingernails dug into his shoulders.

His fingers slid between them to where their bodies met, fingers slowly circling as the pressure mounted.

"Close?"

She nodded fervently, clinging to him.

Ten seconds, that was all it took. She knew because she had counted.

"Draco!" Hermione cried out his name, slumping against him as her body trembled. She murmured his name again as he laid her backwards on the bed. "Where are you—" Unable to prop herself up, Hermione watched him go into the loo.

The sink turned on, and Draco emerged after flicking the light off. A cool cloth slid up the inside of her thigh, and he cleaned away the combined traces of them both.

Cocking her head to the side, a thank you bubbled up on her lips. She certainly appreciated the gesture. It was just what she would have wanted—not that she would have ever mentioned it, especially after the first time—and Draco slid into bed beside her.

He opened his arm and she snuggled close. "Thank you," Hermione told him quietly. "For _everything _tonight." Hermione pulled the sheets around them. "I'm really sorry about Adam."

Draco peered down at her as she rested on his chest, arm slid over his torso. "It's alright, really."

"That's probably not the last time someone will assume you're Scorpius' father," Hermione added, just as softly as she traced his scar.

"There are worse things than that." He shrugged. "I'm certainly not going to be offended by that." Draco dropped a kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you for being so understanding." Hermione's chest was light as she grinned. "Soooo… about that next time?"

Draco slid down the curve of her body without another word, a satisfied smirk on his face.

* * *

**I'm so fucking floored at the review count for this story. I literally can't even. It's always been a goal of mine to reach a thousand reviews (and I don't want to sound conceited) and I think this might be the story that hits it. Maybe. Either way, I'm so, so happy to have you all as readers. **

**Let me know what you thought if you feel like it!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Grateful to mcal and dreamsofdramione. Without them, I would have quit this one a long time ago. **

* * *

One morning after Clara picked up Scorpius—the woman hadn't taken no for an answer after knocking on the door at the crack of dawn—Hermione lay in bed next to Draco. There was a delicious ache between her thighs as she curled closer to him, running her fingers over a scar on his chest, each digit slowly moving farther down his chest to climb the ladder of his ribs.

He snorted a laugh and the tense silence vanished when he batted her hands away. "Stop that."

The corner of her mouth lifted as Hermione climbed on top of him with a mischievous smirk. "My, my, are you _ticklish_?"

His eyes narrowed. "This isn't a fight you want to pick."

"I think I do," Hermione purred, allowing her nails to skim up his sides.

He squirmed. "You're not going to win."

"Mmm, I wouldn't say it's entirely about winning. Besides, I think you're lying about not being ticklish."

Draco gripped her hips, fingers pressed into the same spaces they'd occupied just ten minutes earlier while she rocked against him. He arched a pale brow, shifting his weight under her and—_oh._

They weren't quite as done as she'd thought. "You're not going to distract me now."

"I'm quite persuasive, I'll have—" Draco's drawling tone broke abruptly, turning into something that resembled more of a shriek. It was _not _a sound she expected from him at all. "You're in for it now, Granger." Still holding her tightly against him, Draco rolled her onto her back.

Completely breathless from laughing, Hermione's body shook as she pushed him backwards, her hands flat against his muscled chest. "You _are_ ticklish!"

Even he couldn't hold back his amusement. "You caught me. I lied."

Her eyes flicked to his, then to the way his tongue slid across the seam of his lips. "Nice men don't lie." Hermione frowned. "Here I thought you were a nice man."

He caught on quickly, and there was a wild curve to his lips. _I did that. _Draco's mouth slid along the length of her throat, his knee pressing her legs open as it slid between them. "Do you want a nice man, Hermione?" A chill ran down her spine.

"Not right now," Hermione whispered, reaching for him until any solid words died on her lips.

* * *

Two—_three_, if she counted the romp after their first earlier that morning—times Draco had fallen into her bed over the last three days, and she'd been anything but unwilling. Peeking at the mirror in the loo, Hermione carefully framed her hair around her shoulders so the slight mark left at the base of her throat wouldn't be visible. If Victoire noticed, she'd never allow the teasing to cease.

A loud ring pierced the air from outside the door, and Hermione was pulled out of her quiet moment. She pulled the knitted jumper over her head without another thought as she dressed quickly, stepping into her shoes as she hurried down the corridor.

Once downstairs, she found Draco in the kitchen, an irritated scowl twisting his lips. It was nothing like the expression he'd worn most of the morning. "Yes, I understand that. Of course." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Hermione slid behind him, a soft smile curving her lips when she saw he'd already put the kettle on.

"Yes, sir," Draco had a sharp edge to his voice as his fingers curled around the island's edge, his knuckles draining of color. "I'll be there shortly." He turned, and found her leaned against the counter with a cup in her hand.

She held out a matching one for him. "Is everything alright?"

"It was my boss." His tone was disinterested at best. "There's apparently a case I'm needed to consult on."

Nodding, Hermione blew on her tea before tipping it to her lips. "You don't sound pleased about that."

"To be quite honest, I was looking forward to spending the morning with you."

"And now you're just shagging me twice and leaving." Hermione snorted. "Draco—" Her lips parted as his features darkened. "You know I'm only teasing."

He closed the distance between them, sliding his fingers through the belt loops on either side of her jeans. "Are you closing the shop tonight?"

"I am. If you're going to ask if I'll be the only one there, I will be."

Draco plucked her cup from her hands and set it on the counter. "Will you mind terribly if I insist on seeing you home?"

"Depends," she breathed, tilting her face up. "Is it for purely chivalrous reasons?" Trailing her fingers down his forearms, Hermione smirked when his breath caught by the simple movement.

As he pressed her into the cupboards, one hand framing her face, the corner of his mouth lifted. "I'm not sure _pure_ would be the word I'd use when it comes to my intentions with you."

_Bloody hell._

Hermione's chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. "If you say something like that again, I'm likely to cause you to be late for work." She stretched up to kiss him. "Go, go now."

He sniggered and slanted his lips over hers one more time.

* * *

While shelving new inventory that night, Hermione was left alone with her thoughts. It wasn't necessarily the way she wanted to spend her time, but as she climbed the footstool over and over again, she knew it couldn't be helped.

She and Draco were moving quickly, there was no question about that. Even though he'd been her neighbor for a decent amount of time, they had only been on two dates, and slept together more times than that.

Hermione tried to be kinder to herself. It had been a long time since she'd had anyone meaningful in her life. She had to admit that she couldn't relate to how things felt with him. She'd had a handful of dates—all of them bad.

There had been Adam, the one that stuck out from the rest in terms of terrible dates, and it was no joke that Crookshanks seemed increasingly protective of his family. Crooks had spotted the man on the porch from the hedges as he leaned into kiss her, and it, well, it hadn't gone well. Hermione was almost certain Adam had a scar near his heel to show for the incident. He hadn't called her after that. And that was perfectly fine.

The _point_ was that no one had ever garnered a second look from her, and she'd never pondered continuing the relationships to see where they might lead.

Nor had she slept with any of them.

It struck her as important, something that she would have liked to share with Draco if it wasn't so bloody embarrassing. It felt like something monumental, like giving up a part of herself that could so easily be broken, and she was supposed to be scared, wasn't she?

To have met a stranger and already found a well of happiness she'd never discovered before, that was preposterous. That wasn't how it was meant to happen. She didn't _know _him, or his favorite color, or God, even his _birthday_, but no amount of logic could deter her emotions.

Perhaps it didn't matter that she didn't know everything about him. Maybe it meant something that she wasn't scared to dive in. It was nothing like what she'd felt about previous dates, and Hermione knew it wasn't altogether fair of her to consistently compare Draco to men who didn't measure up to him in any capacity.

_I just need to work through this and then I can let it go._

Her fear was more related to an inevitable conversation with her son, and the prospect of this relationship not working out. It would crush Scorpius to have Draco so close consistently—and it was too late to prevent that now since Draco ate dinner with them nearly every night—but Hermione reminded herself to tread carefully when it came to erasing a line that couldn't be easily drawn again.

Pain bloomed in the front of her skull, and she sighed, leaning her forehead on the shelf.

That was another thing, but she had no way to connect the two. _Not_ that they were related, she quickly reminded herself. Still, her thoughts continued to wander on their own accord. Her headaches hadn't stopped, and she'd need to call her doctor soon. But—

They were more frequent when Draco was around. Even when they'd laid in bed that morning—which hadn't been born of him staying the night, he just happened to be returning something of hers after Clara took Scorpius—her head had ached.

The night before, he'd accompanied her and Scorpius to the grocery. While he'd taken her son to look for a toy in the discount section, she'd had no choice but to grab a bottle of Aspirin, and take one in the middle of the trip to ease the pain.

They weren't related, and she'd do well to remember that. But it _was _strange.

When she grabbed her purse and locked up, she found Draco waiting for her. He handed her a travel mug filled with tea and she beamed at him. "This is just the way I like it," she murmured, lacing her fingers with his.

"I watched you make it this morning."

"Thank you."

* * *

Every second spent with her, the threat of his next birthday loomed over his head. Neither of his parents had managed to contact him yet, but he was certain his mother was still attempting to do so. His father, however, was an entirely different story. Lucius Malfoy was undoubtedly looking for the weakest link in the story about where his son had gone, sole heir and all, but at least he hadn't found a way as of yet.

That was the _only _good news.

When he stopped to think about it, their relationship had been a whirlwind—it had been the first time around, too, so apparently some things truly never changed—but they were heading towards the end of October. Leaves changed colours, and he watched Scorpius go out of his way to stomp on the crunchiest ones. His mum did the same and Draco could feel his frustrated demeanor begin to soften.

Money wasn't enough to get him out of this problem, at least not this time. The Greengrasses weren't the slightest bit interested in bribery now that their youngest daughter was the byproduct of one failed engagement. They were looking for status and Draco could only imagine how heavily they were eyeing the Malfoy vaults. _Fucking vultures, all of them._

Still, he racked his brain in order to scrape together a plan if everything went tits up. In the best case—which was a daydream he often lost himself in—Granger would regain her memory before June. Preferably long before since he knew she was going to be furious at first. Even if she chose to never return to England, the fact that he'd fathered a child would break any marriage contract his father had sealed.

If that wasn't the case—and sometimes Draco lost faith that she would ever recall what they'd had—he would expose the news himself. Carefully. Letting the entire world know that _the_ Hermione Granger was alive would send the media into a frenzy. He could already imagine the Daily Prophet perching on her lawn, asking the sort of questions that might make her head crack open beyond repair.

No, claiming that he had a child would be messy, and it would require a cover up inside the Ministry. Potter would be on board, as would Robards. The Head Auror would bring the Minister into it, and Shacklebolt would never dream of saying no. But it would also mean that her other friends would never know. It would mean that she could never return to a life she probably missed and Draco would also have to cut ties with everyone he knew. There would be no possible way to remain in France with the chance of anyone finding them _if _they were to snoop.

It wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

As easily as it would be to expose Scorpius' paternity, it wasn't a valid option. There would be questions he couldn't easily brush off. His father would launch a personal investigation of his own, hiring wizards to track him down, and Draco couldn't stomach putting Hermione in the open like that. To do so would mean he'd risk losing her, and that… That had never been an option.

With his birthday still eight months away, there was still time. But unless there was a large shift that filled the gaps of Granger's memories without causing irreversible damage, Draco feared they could have years and it still wouldn't be enough.

The best choice was to begin slowly pulling money from the Gringotts vault and depositing it into one that belonged solely to him while he had Potter covertly converted it to Muggle currency. Not that his father had any way of controlling it as it stood right that moment. However, if Draco were to abandon his title as Head of House and renounce any duties that were saddled upon its heir, then the control would temporarily revert back to Lucius. At least until the Ministry intervened, and they would.

Draco swallowed as he listened to Hermione humming while she stood at the counter. Outside the sliding glass door, Scorpius was attempting to do a handstand with Crooks as his witness. It wasn't going well, but he still continued to try even after every fall.

His gaze flicked to Hermione. Her lips were curved into a smile, her teeth showing as she watched through the window. He wanted to remember her just like this. It was nothing new to him, he'd categorized her features during the war, every single time before they parted again.

If worst came to worst, he could disappear.

_They _could disappear.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione's brows knit together with worry. "You've been distracted all morning."

As always, the truth was on the tip of his tongue, but Draco forced a weak smile. "There was a rough case at work today." He hated how easily the lie came to him. One of these days, there might be a lie that she didn't forgive him for. "It's nothing."

She didn't seem to believe him, but Hermione let it go. "Anything I can do to make you feel better?" she asked, pecking his cheek. "Beyond, well, you know."

That pulled a genuine laugh from his chest and her responding grin was brilliant. "Actually, there's one thing," Draco murmured. "After lunch, would you like to go to the park again? Honestly, all I need to make my day better is time spent with you both."

His back met the fridge, sending magnets scattering across the floor as she flung herself at him. "Smooth talking." Hermione cupped his face and kissed him slowly until he couldn't breathe.

* * *

The fireplace roared to life in plumes of green smoke after he arrived home. Draco sat on the edge of his coffee table, accepting the Floo call. He recognized Potter's unruly mop floating in the fire.

Immediately, his partner glared at him. "I've called you six times."

Draco snorted. "My fucking apologies, Potter. I've been busy."

Harry huffed. "I'm sure you were, but I was an hour away from coming there myself. You haven't called in two weeks."

"Missing me?" He smirked.

"_No, _you tremendous prat," Potter seethed. "You're meant to check in at least once a week so Robards doesn't send a team of Aurors in after you. Let me guess, you were busy?"

He nodded. "I was, actually. Romancing Granger was a lot of work the first time, given the fact that we were risking our lives every second. While I don't have that problem this time, it's still a delicate situation."

"Uh-huh. Tell me how the romancing is going then. How is she?"

"Happier than I've ever seen her." He still wondered if coaxing her to remember was the best option. "We took Scorpius to the park. That's where I was when you called."

"And how are you?" Potter's question cut straight to the point. "Malfoy, come on. I know you can't let her see any of your normal doom and gloom, but—"

Draco scoffed. "Doom and gloom? What is this, sixth year?"

Harry didn't seem to find his attempt at humour funny. "Is it?"

He sombered, staring at his boots. "It's worse, actually." Draco sighed. "I'm happy with her. I just know that I'm lying to her at the same time, and I'm not sure how this will end. This could be the happiest time in my life up until her mind is—"

"We're _not _going to let that happen," Potter interjected. "Either way, Malfoy, I promise you're going to get to keep your girl. Whether that's by her remembering magic, or you having to live like a Muggle."

"And when Scorpius gets his Hogwarts letter? There's no doubt he will in five years. His mum is Hermione fucking Granger. Scorpius will be highly magical. What do we do then? Send him off to Hogwarts with the explanation that he can't owl his mum? What about the fact that Granger will fucking notice her child is gone?" He knew that once the lid was off, there was no containing his outburst.

"I don't have all the answers." Harry dragged his fingers through his hair. "We'll figure it out, alright? One step at a time. Have you resolved the engagement?"

Draco hung his head, blond strands falling into his face. "There's nothing that can be done. I can't bribe them, and if I don't follow through with the marriage, I'll be forced out of the family anyway. I'll lose all rights to the fortune and properties."

"Shite."

"I have a plan for that, though. Tomorrow, I'm going to owl Gringotts to start siphoning gold from the family vaults into a personal one. What I need you to do is to start converting that money into Muggle currency."

His eyes widened and Potter leaned forward. "Why?"

Draco didn't answer.

"You're planning to vanish with them, aren't you?"

Swallowing hard, Draco said quietly, "I just want to be prepared if I have to."

"Fuck!" There was a crash behind Potter as he hurled something against a wall. "Alright, I can do that. I don't want this to happen."

"Neither of us do. Have you learned anything else?"

Anger twisted Harry's features. "Hermione's not in any danger currently, best I can tell. I've combed through all the documents seized after the war from various families, especially the Lestranges. I didn't find anything confirming she was alive. And before you interrupt, I know they wouldn't have written it down, but some of those families kept written records of Unbreakable Vows."

Draco nodded.

"I still don't know why Bellatrix did this. But I did find something, and it's like we imagined. In the Lestrange vault, there was a book filled with ugly fucking dark magic. An Unspeakable had to go over it after a Cursebreaker. It sounds like the curse Bellatrix would have cast on Hermione. Obliviation, undoubtedly, but it's a modified curse."

So they had thought.

Harry appeared reluctant to say anything else. "If the victim begins to remember anything, the curse will activate and erase their memories once more. It's not a one time thing, Draco. It's constant, and for whatever reason, Lestrange never wanted her to regain her memory, even if someone else tried for her."

It was bad. Of course, it had always been bad since the day they'd learned Granger was alive and without her memory.

"What does this mean for us? Is it even possible for her to—"

"Robards took it to Healer Smith. I'll know by tomorrow. From what she said, it sounds like it's still very much possible, but it has to be all in one go. There has to be something powerful enough to break through that curse."

It didn't sound so likely anymore, but Draco pushed aside his cynicism. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, Lucius is making inquiries about where you are. I've seen him at the Ministry multiple times. At this rate, it's only a matter of time before he learns where you are. From what I've heard, the Greengrass family is furious that you've taken off."

"Let them be," Draco ground out. "You need to stall him for as long as you can."

He'd known all along that he was on borrowed time, but if his father was to learn of Hermione and his half-blood grandson… Draco didn't want to think about it.

Potter issued him a crude two finger salute before the call ended.

Draco remained there for several minutes, his face buried in his hands.


	13. Chapter 13

There was a layer of frost lining the window above the sink, and the double doors of Hermione's kitchen that led outside were icy, too. December had crept up on them in a hurry, and it hadn't fully settled in Draco's stomach that he'd had Hermione and Scorpius in his life for months now. Having them around meant all of the terrible years that had led to now no longer mattered. If he'd had to do it all over again, he would without question if it meant he'd end up right here with them again.

Hermione hummed as the corner of her lips turned upward. She lingered in front of the stove top, her hair tied up in a knot with short strands framing her face. Entirely focused on not burning the hot chocolate—like the night before when he decided to snog her against the counter with Scorpius upstairs—she didn't notice him staring. Or she did.

Draco wouldn't have been surprised. He'd never quite curbed his staring habit and he couldn't silence the constant voice in his head repeating _she's alive, she's alive._

"What did you do today, Scorpius?"

His son—fuck, even thinking about the words always sent a rush through him—sat at the dining table, a bright grin plastered on his face as he flipped open a book. _Typical_. "I helped Miss Clara wrap presents. Did you know there are kids who don't get presents?"

Hermione cast a long look at him. "I do. Not every child is as lucky as you, Scorpius. When you were first born, villagers bought you presents for your first Christmas."

Eyes wide, Scorpius turned entirely around in his chair to face them. "They did?!"

She nodded. "There were so many of them I couldn't see the floor Christmas morning. People band together during the holidays, love. It's not only about getting things; it's also about giving them."

Scorpius' face was blank as he absorbed this information, looking from Draco to his mum and back to Draco again. "Could we give _them _presents?"

Her face broke into a grin. "Of course. I always do, but I'll let you help me this year."

Drumming his fingers against the back of the chair, Scorpius asked, "Do you think they would like my old toys? I can't play with them all."

Draco caught her eyes beginning to water as a soft sound caught in her throat. _Merlin, he's inherited everything good from his mother. _"That's a very kind thing to do." Draco's fingers tangled with Hermione's at his side and out of sight.

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "We'll sort through them this weekend, but you don't have to give away anything you don't want to." She turned back to the stove once more.

Scorpius scanned the first page of the book, papers crinkling as he turned to the next, but there was something… _curious _about the motion.

Straightening, Draco watched the boy reach for his mug on the table, but his fingers didn't meet it. _He couldn't possibly be— _He didn't know if Scorpius had ever had bouts of accidental magic. It was possible, he supposed, and if he _had_, Granger wouldn't remember. The curse would have surely created a gap in her memory when she witnessed magic of any kind.

Granger said something behind him, but he didn't hear it. There was a teasing lilt to her voice, as there almost always was, but it was all he could do to stare ahead in awe.

The mug shot upward—luckily it was still empty—and rolled on its side in the air. A tiny hand rushed up to chase it. Scorpius wiggled his fingers, and the cup followed the movement. Hardly able to believe what he was seeing, Draco watched a wry grin creep onto his son's face.

He realised that he should have prevented Hermione from seeing it all too late

"Alright, it's hot so—_Scorpius?_" Granger's voice rose and he recognised the panic immediately for what it was. "What are you doing?" She shrieked, her eyes shooting open as she stared at him.

There was nothing but fear in her tone, worry, whichever he wanted to call it.

The mug crashed down to the floor and Scorpius' eyes filled with tears. "I don't know!"

Holding up one finger towards Scorpius, Draco mouthed 'be right back.' Glass from the broken mug was scattered across the floor . Draco stepped over it carefully, leading her from the room. "Hermione—"

She was trembling, and he wasn't sure if it was a byproduct of the curse taking effect or just lingering shock from what she'd just witnessed."Draco—Scorpius, he—" Hermione clutched her head, fingers digging roughly into her hair.

When he looked back later, Draco would realize that he had barked her name rather than uttering it softly as he panicked. "_Hermione! _What's wrong?"

"My head feels like it's splitting open," she moaned.

Lead formed in his stomach. He could lose her again if the curse was as unpredictable as he thought. It could erase all of her memories, not just the one to trigger it. And she _never _exaggerated when it came to pain.

Potter would have known what to do.

Draco should have known what in the bloody fuck he was supposed to _do_.

"I know. Will you let me speak with Scorpius? Perhaps you ought to lie down."

Confusion flitted across her face as she sucked in a breath. "I can't think straight." A grimace formed on her lips. "I'll lie down. If you need anything—"

He wrapped his arms around her, picking her up when she lost her balance. Draco carried her up the stairs and pressed his thumb to the inside of her wrist. Her pulse quickened. "I'll come up to check on you after I talk to him."

Hermione was barely able to nod as he laid her in the bed. "My head."

Pressing a cool kiss to her forehead, Draco murmured, "Sleep, Granger."

* * *

He found Scorpius sitting on the porch with a red tipped nose. He'd bundled himself up and his arms were folded across his chest. "Where's Mummy?" Scorpius sniffled and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

Draco sat beside him, lacing his fingers together while resting his elbows on his knees. "She's sleeping. She doesn't feel well."

"It's my fault."

"It isn't." Draco shook his head. "You weren't able to control that. It was an accident."

Scorpius leaned against Draco, his eyes cast downward. "It sure feels like my fault."

"Has it ever happened before?"

Suddenly interested in the falling snow, it took several moments for Scorpius to swallow. "One time at Miss Clara's. There were cookies in the jar on the shelf. I just wanted one, and then… It was in my hand. I didn't open the jar."

_Fucking Merlin's balls! He summoned something?_

"Did Miss Clara see you do it?"

Scorpius wrapped his arms around Draco's arm, nuzzling his face—and snot—into his sleeve. "No."

First he'd summoned something to himself and now the hovering mug. Draco sighed. This could be bad. If Hermione were to see it happen again, there was no way of knowing how she would react. "How did it feel?"

His head snapped up. "Strange… But not strange. Like I knew what I was doing."

Draco smirked. While what he was about to do might not be the best option, it was the only one that would put Scorpius at ease.

"Watch this," he murmured, reaching into his sleeve and pulling his wand from the holster strapped to his forearm. "_Expecto Patronum_." Wispy light filtered from the end of his wand, surrounding them as a familiar little animal burst forward.

"What's that?" Scorpius squeaked, scrambling away.

Snorting a laugh, Draco coaxed him forward. "It's an otter. She won't hurt you."

Scorpius reached out, his fingers brushing the nose of Draco's Patronus as his mouth dropped open. "It's not a real otter?"

"No."

"What is it?"

"It's magic, created by my happiest memories so I'm never alone." Draco smiled. "And one day, I'll teach you everything, but for now this has to stay between us."

"I can't tell Mum?"

Merlin, his chest fucking hurt at that weak tone. "You will, just not yet. She's not ready to see it, okay?"

Scorpius nodded with a sigh. "Do it again?"

This certainly _was_ his son. "One more time."

* * *

Hermione rubbed her head as she hurried toward the steady knock on the other side of her door. "Coming!" She hastily opened the door. "Draco?"

"Good morning."

"What are you doing here?" She yawned, but stepped to the side. "It's so early."

He frowned while she closed the front door with a faint click. "You invited me to breakfast last night over dinner," Draco said slowly, and her chest tightened. "If it's a bad time—"

The breath she was holding in escaped her in a rush. "Oh, I must have forgotten," Hermione whispered, rubbing the back of her neck. "Well, this is embarrassing. I haven't forgotten anything in quite a while now."

Draco shook his head. "It's not a problem."

"If you'd like to have a seat, I could still make breakfast. I haven't even started, but—" He cut her off by pressing his lips to hers, and she fisted his shirt in her hands. A stuttered moan slipped out of her and her back met the wall. "Scorpius is still sleeping, but—"

"I just need you for a minute." He leaned his forehead against hers. "Give me this?"

Dazed, Hermione nodded, allowing him to steer her around a corner and kiss her until she couldn't breathe.

* * *

The first thing she'd done that morning—_after _Draco had released her just as her son clambered down the stairs—was call her doctor. The receptionist was as cheery as always, spitting out the soonest available date.

Or, she had been until Hermione said quietly into the receiver, "Is there anything sooner? I believe I may be experiencing gaps in my memory again." It felt like a dam breaking open to say the words out loud while Draco rubbed slow circles over her back, his knuckles applying the slightest pressure.

Doctor Caron instructed her to come in that afternoon and insisted they skip the formality of her former visits. And while he'd prescribed stronger medication for her migraines, he suggested that they take the extra step of taking scans of her brain.

It had been uncomfortable. The machine made her nauseous while she squeezed her eyes shut.

His face had given nothing away when he bid her a good day, pressing the prescription into her waiting hands with a promise to call her the second there was any news.

* * *

_Irregular._

The receiver slipped from her grasp as the call ended, but Doctor Caron's voice echoed in her head. Sliding down the counter, her chest numb, Hermione hardly registered the sound of footsteps nearing her until she recognised Draco's boots.

"Hermione?" He knelt down. "What's wrong?"

She dove forward, throwing her arms around his neck as a sob tore free from her chest. "That was my doctor. Did I tell you they took scans last week? Because of my migraines?" Hermione twisted into him and his arms locked around her.

"No." His lips barely moved against the top of her head. "What did he say, Hermione?"

She noticed distinctly that he didn't ask if everything was alright like he'd done before. Probably because he already knew that it _wasn't_. "They found"—Hermione hiccuped—"irregular activity in my brain. They said… They said they don't know what it means."

Draco inhaled sharply. "It could be nothing."

Support. That was what she needed, but Hermione found she didn't care to hear it just then.

"Maybe..." Her voice was muffled by his chest. "But I sincerely doubt it. There will be more tests, and I—God, what if I'm not here to raise my _son_?" Saying her worst fear out loud brought on a new onslaught of tears.

* * *

Her head hurt. Lately it seemed that it always did, whether she was shelving books at the shop, tidying up her home, or spending quiet moments with Draco. All too often, her lips would curve into the start of a grimace, and the familiar, blindsiding ache would return. With it, the fear that she might not be around to raise her son slid into her mind and forced its way to the front of her thoughts.

It made her violently ill and Draco noticed. Grey eyes often widened with worry, and he'd curve his arm around her middle, coaxing her to lean against him. Inner turmoil rolled in the pit of her stomach, gathering in treacherous waves that pushed her toward exhaustion.

She'd looked forward to making dinner every night before the phone rang in the middle of a quiet afternoon three days ago, but now Hermione couldn't summon the motivation to do much of anything. As someone who thrived with a routine, it wasn't ideal, and there was also the issue of Scorpius needing structure.

He couldn't have his mother falling to pieces where he could see.

Curled up on the sofa with a plush blanket wrapped around her shoulders—which Draco had carried downstairs for her—Hermione watched him play boardgames with her son. Draco might have avoided poker after the first time he'd been embarrassed by a six year old, but she could tell he Draco was holding back when it came to Monopoly.

Evidently, so could Scorpius. "You're not this dumb."

Draco choked on his tea. "I beg your pardon."

"Beg whatever you want," Scorpius fired back, organizing his properties. "I've landed on Boardwalk three times now!"

Peering back at her, she could tell Draco knew he'd been caught. "Fine, you've figured me out."

A pang twisted in her chest when Scorpius glared at Draco. _God, they look so much alike. _There had never been any denying it, of course, and she was still keenly aware of the stares they occasionally earned whenever they were in public but—

Hermione had never quite been able to get used to it.

A ragged sound forced its way free of her chest. "Excuse me," she muttered, standing only to find herself wobbling on shaky legs. "I'll be right back." Hermione hurried away, draping the blanket over Draco's shoulders, but she could feel his gaze burning into her back as she climbed the stairs.

Cupping the side of her head, she thought for what must have been the hundredth time that she was fed up with the random pains. Hermione snatched the blue bottle from bedside table, twisted the cap while holding it down, and swallowed two capsules without a drink.

She _didn't _slam it back down before locking the drawer.

It would have been possible to believe her lie if she hadn't turned around to discover she wasn't alone. "What are you doing up here?" Hermione asked, her tone sharp. "You can't just leave Scorpius. He's been looking forward to seeing you all day and—" She cut herself off, colour flooding her cheeks.

It wasn't Draco's fault she was angry.

He leaned against the door frame, arms folded across his chest. "He's in the loo."

"I'm sorry." Hermione murmured. "I'm just having a shitty week, and I didn't mean to take it out on you. I won't let it happen again."

Draco pushed away from the trim and closed the gap between them. "Hey," he whispered, sliding his thumb under her eye to catch the stray tears. "If you want to take your frustration out on me, that's fine. Also, Scorpius is actually done with the game now."

"What, why?" Hermione could have sighed in relief at the subject change, but held that to herself. "Did you refuse to charge him money again?"

He snorted. "Crookshanks rolled across the board and then off the table."

Hermione blinked.

"I should add that he flipped the board with him."

Her laugh was too loud for the enclosed space, and there were mere inches between his lips and hers, but the smile it earned her was brilliant. "That sounds about right."

There was a soft knock at the door and Hermione peeked around Draco's broad frame to see Scorpius. "Mum?" He'd already dressed himself in his pajamas. "Can Draco tell me a bedtime story tonight?"

"You'll have to ask him that question, love." Hermione grinned, lightly jabbing Draco in the ribs. "What do you say?"

She couldn't decipher all of the emotions that flashed across Draco's face as he swung Scorpius up and tossed him over his shoulders. "You want a bedtime story? Then you'll get a bedtime story." Draco grinned, and the sight of pure happiness cut straight through her.

It could have made her forget about everything else.

Hermione waited a few moments before leaving her bedroom, and she lingered just outside Scorpius' door. Through a small crack, she could make out Draco teetering precariously in the toddler chair next to Scorpius' bed.

"What story are you going to tell?" Scorpius' excitement had overtaken his tone.

With her temple pressed to the wall, Hermione listened intently as Draco weaved a fairy tale, filled with witches, wizards, and magic. It had clearly entertained her son as well, but Hermione found herself drawn in by the tale.

In fact, she wasn't entirely sure why Scorpius loved it so much considering half of it sounded like a love story in the middle of a fight against an evil wizard.

Draco opened the door and slipped out. "Were you listening the entire time?" He swallowed, his throat bobbing with the motion. "You're grinning like mad. Did you like that?"

Hermione reached for him, sliding her fingers through his. "You're great with him. Have I ever told you that?"

"Not directly, but it's been strongly implied."

"He adores you," Hermione whispered, pressing her lips to his knuckles. "And I'm so grateful for it."

His face softened. "I feel extremely lucky to be able to be a part of his life, no matter how big or small that part may be."

Leading him down the corridor, Hermione glanced over her shoulder, lifting a finger to rest against the bow of her lips. "Quiet?" She tilted her head toward her bedroom. "I don't want you to go."

The dark look that took over his features was positively _wicked. _"That's all you ever had to say," Draco rasped, and picked her up as he knocked the door open with his foot. "Should I lock it?"

She nodded. "Just in case."

He carried her to the large bed and sat on the edge—achingly familiar to the way this had happened the first time and something— "Eyes on me, love." Draco lifted her shirt over her head, and his fingers skimmed her sides, knuckles rolling over her hips. "You've been thinking too much."

Moving her hips against him, Hermione could feel his hardening length through her jeans. "And you are talking too much."

Draco's nose twitched and a laugh rumbled from deep inside his chest. "I've barely said anything."

"Less talking." Hermione smiled, pushing him onto his back and straddling his hips. "More doing." She nipped the shell of his ear.

Unclasping her bra with just one hand—which shouldn't have impressed her nearly as much as it did considering he'd done it before—Draco surged up to kiss her. It wasn't gentle. He drew her lower lip in between his teeth, eyes flashing as the motion drew a whimper from her.

Her nails cut into his shoulders when she ground down on him.

Hermione wasn't sure how they found the will to part in order to undress completely, even if it only lasted ten seconds at the best. Hands closed around her hips, digits digging into her skin in a way that made her feel alive, Draco pressed her flat against the mattress before kneeling between her thighs.

As she gripped the sheets, Hermione propped herself up to watch him drag her knickers down her legs with his teeth, his gaze never leaving hers.

"I'm not sure how I've gotten so lucky." He said it almost entirely to himself as he lowered his mouth.

Hermione writhed under him, bunching the sheets in her fists as her teeth cut into her lip to prevent the loud moan that threatened to force its way out. Reduced to weak whimpers, she watched him hitch her leg over his shoulder, and dug her fingers into his hair.

"Bloody fuck—" Hermione gasped, lifting her hips without thinking, as she pulled his hair. "Draco, I—_oh_!" A soft mewl fell away from her, but it wasn't nearly soft _enough_.

"We need to be quiet, love." He smirked, licking a strip up her folds as he watched her.

Draco held her down, his fingers pressed into her pelvis as his tongue slid against her slower than she would have liked.

Which she mentioned, and heard a muffled chuckle from between her thighs before his pace quickened. "Draco, I'm—"

He moved quicker than she could follow, and she covered her mouth as she cried out. His dark stare leveled with hers as her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. "Need to be quiet. Did you already forget?" Draco teased, resting in the cradle of her thighs.

Her hand covered his. "You make me forget a lot of things."

* * *

Granger kicked in her sleep, she always had, but this was different. Draco woke to her thrashing beside him in bed. He grabbed onto her, slipping an arm around her waist as her lips parted in a silent scream. The space between her brows was furrowed and her mouth framed around his name.

Weighing the options, Draco fumbled for his wand that he'd stashed between the mattresses. He couldn't stand being without it when there was the constant worry that anything could happen. He'd barely cast a silencing charm before a gut wrenching scream filled the space and his heart pounded painfully in his chest.

It sounded so fucking familiar that he wanted to vomit. Draco had only heard her scream like that once, and it had risen in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor as his aunt carved into her.

Then there was his _name_.

Hermione's eyes shot wide open, so dark he couldn't make out the color that resembled firewhisky. The sheets were a mess around her, her hair frizzy, and it slammed into him like a ton of bricks.

This was _Granger_ staring at him. War-torn, Order of the Phoenix fighter, his girlfriend, and _not_ the young, single mother he'd found in a sleepy hollow-esque town in France.

Tears stung his eyes and each breath he took was barely there.

"Draco—_Draco_," she choked. Hermione threw herself against him, and her weight nearly sent them both tumbling from the bed. Burying her face in his neck, she whispered, "I'm so sorry I never told you about Scorpius—that I was pregnant. I was so scared and I—"

He slanted his lips against hers desperately, winding his fingers into her hair as tears openly slid down his cheeks. "I love you. I have always loved you," he whispered. "Hermione—"

She clutched her head, brown eyes brimming with tears as she stared at him. "I'm—"

She didn't have to say it.

"Hermione—" He shook his head, holding her up as she murmured that it _hurt_. "Hermione, please don't go. I'm begging you. _Hermione, please_."

He watched her try to stay, but she couldn't fight it off when the curse struck once more and her eyes slowly rolled back in her head. Draco held her for several moments, his chest threatening to crack open as he cradled her. She wasn't gone, but he wasn't sure if the chance of having her once more was worth the risk of losing her altogether.

Granger didn't move for the rest of the night, save for the steady rise and fall of her chest. And despite the direness of the situation they had found themselves in, there was a flicker of hope that sparked to life.

_She's not gone_.

_No one's ever really gone._

* * *

**For the record, I'm totally not sorry. Leave me your reactions in a comment, or on tumblr! See you next week! **


	14. Chapter 14

After the last few weeks, Hermione was no stranger to waking up with a splitting headache. Today, though, it was so much _worse_. Her hand flew to cover her mouth, and she scrambled out of bed, tossing the blanket over Draco's head as he bolted up. "Are you—"

"No!" Hermione snapped, wrenching the door open before closing it behind her. Left alone in the loo, she barely made it to the toilet in time. Vomiting was never fun. Her throat burned and she braced her hands against the side of the bowl as her vision blurred.

When Draco entered, the door gave a wheezing creak. He didn't say anything as he knelt beside her, his knees meeting the linoleum quickly before he pulled her hair back.

As he rubbed circles down her spine, Hermione wanted to tell him to get out. Draco was the last person she wanted to see her like this, yet here he was. _Even if I could manage to tell him to leave, he wouldn't._

Hermione reached up to flush the toilet, and closed the lid with trembling fingers. She climbed to her feet, with his help her, and Hermione glanced in the mirror. Her face was sickly pale, noticeable to anyone who saw her like this—which meant her son _couldn't _see her in such a state. "Can you check on Scorpius while I make myself presentable?"

His chin met her shoulder, and pretty grey eyes peered at her from the reflection. "Of course. I'll make breakfast?"

She grimaced. "I don't think food is a good idea for me right now."

"Oh," Draco murmured. "Right. I'll make something for Scorpius so you can rest?"

It sounded heavenly, but she was due at work in an hour.

It was the beginning of a very bad week.

* * *

On Monday, she sold a stack of books to an elderly man she detested—and had since the first time she'd met him when he'd questioned her on why she hadn't found a suitable male figure for her son—but forgot to ring him up. An hour later, Hermione realized why the cash skim was off.

On Wednesday, Hermione forgot that Draco was scheduled to work late, which led to her surliness because she believed he was _late_ to dinner without bothering to call. Admitting the slip in her memory was humiliating even if he was supportive. However, the medications weren't helping and she knew it.

On Friday, Hermione nearly burnt dinner to a crisp. It was impossible to tell that it was chicken in the pan, and Draco had attempted humour to lighten the dark cloud that settled over her. "_At least nothing is on fire."_

Maybe Hermione had been in the wrong to not find it funny, but she shrugged off his reassurances, and ordered takeaway. She'd gone alone as well, insisting, with an edge in her voice, that she needed a few minutes alone if he wouldn't mind watching Scorpius.

Dinner had been a quiet affair on her end, but in spite of her terrible mood, Hermione had to admit that nothing improved her day quite like watching Draco and her son. Draco leaned back, slumping against the sofa, and Crooks jumped, tail swishing, and curled into his lap.

"Mum?" Scorpius slid off the cushion, leaving his seat beside Draco and padded over to her. "I have a question," he whispered, eyes wide.

Though she had an idea of what it was about, Hermione leaned forward with a knowing smile and lent him her ear. "What is it?"

"Can Draco read me another bedtime story?" His lower lip wobbled a bit. "I still like _your _stories, but—"

She giggled. "You don't need to explain anything to me. I'll tell you a story another night, okay? Get ready for bed and I'll send him up." Hermione wheezed when Scorpius slung his arms around her neck, and gave a vicious squeeze.

"Love you, Mum." He pecked her on the cheek and rushed upstairs.

Hermione shifted her weight, tucking her legs under her. "Looks like you're up."

The slow smile that curved his lips could have stopped her heart. Draco walked around the coffee table, and sat beside her, resting his cheek in his palm. "Thank you for allowing me to spend time with him," he murmured, taking her hand and pressing a soft kiss to the center of her palm. "I'll see you after?"

"I'll let you sneak into mine for the night as long as you make sure he doesn't see you in the morning. Not yet anyway. He and I haven't had that discussion."

"I'll climb out the window if I have to."

* * *

_Something was burning and flames roared to life around her. Hermione's eyes opened, subsequently widening in horror._

"_Granger, you need to hang on tight," Draco barked, reaching to tighten her grip on his stomach as he steered the broom with his other hand._

"_Harry and Ron—" Hermione cried out, her eyes searching through the flames for them, but they were nowhere to be seen._

_His chest rumbled. "They're above us." Draco nodded upward._

_Her gaze shot upward, and the two of them were skirting the top of the ceiling, dodging the inferno that surged under them. In Harry's hand, she could just make out the barely there outline of the diadem, and she watched him sweep down to allow the fiendfyre to swallow the horcrux whole._

"_It's destroyed!" Hermione buried her face in Draco's shoulder and her sweaty fingers began to slip apart._

_Harry shot downward—lower and lower until she couldn't see him anymore—and Draco gave a low curse._

_She barely heard it._

"_What the fuck is he—"_

_Spiraling out of the flames, Harry pressed forward towards the exit and Hermione's mouth dropped open. "He's got Goyle."_

_Draco didn't waste another second as they sped out of the room, tumbling into the corridor on the seventh floor. There was soot in his hair, and Hermione sat on her knees for a second they couldn't afford before pressing a harsh kiss to his mouth._

_Even in the middle of what she was certain had been the longest day of her life, he managed a signature smirk. "I told you I'd get you on a broom with me someday."_

_She laughed, but it died out as a voice carried across the grounds just as Harry and Ron—with Goyle in tow—crash landed._

"—_Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."_

_Ron's lips were set in a grimace as their collective gazes shifted to Harry._

_Fingers slid through hers, helping her to her feet. As Harry and Ron argued under their breath, Hermione stared at the man by her side. "I love you. You know that, don't you?" Hermione whispered. "No matter what happens."_

_He squeezed her hand. "Don't give up yet. Isn't it you who always says we have so much to live for?" Draco spoke the words, but she knew it was only for her benefit._

_She sucked in a sharp breath. "You have no idea." Hermione's hand drifted to her stomach._

Hermione sat straight up, drenched in a cold sweat. She looked to the other side of the bed, finding Draco had stolen all of the blanket, and there was a single moment of clarity.

She recognised the magic washing over her, and knew she'd lose consciousness again before long. Fumbling, Hermione clumsily reached into the drawer and grabbed a pen with a scrap of paper.

_Remember Harry and Ron. _

* * *

The weekend passed slowly.

Hermione curled up in the window nook with a book cracked open in her lap, and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, while she watched her breath fog up the glass. She'd read the same page over and over again, but none of the words sunk in. The paper she used as a bookmark had drawn all of her attention, and she tilted her head to the side, her temple resting against the freezing glass.

_Remember Harry and Ron._

It was unmistakably her handwriting. She'd woken up to this scrawled note two days ago, and Hermione had yet to make sense of it. Those four words weighed heavily on her when combined with the fact that perhaps she should have told Draco what was on her mind that morning before he left with Scorpius.

The pair had been gone for two hours already. Scorpius had asked her—and Draco had appeared panic stricken, as if he were worried she might believe he'd put her son up to it—if he could go shopping with Draco. Scorpius said he wanted to find the perfect Christmas gift for her.

Her finger traced the curve of her penmanship and Hermione sighed as no answer came to mind at all.

* * *

"Why can I do magic?"

Draco choked on his tea.

He looked around to be sure no one had heard his son and sighed. "Scorp, you can't talk about magic in public" he whispered.

"Why not?"

Draco grimaced. "There are rules about that. Muggles aren't supposed to know. If you were to tell one, you could be in trouble."

His brows furrowed.

Sensing another question was only a breath away, Draco cast a silencing charm under the table. It was rather difficult, and if anyone had been looking, it would have appeared that he was… uncomfortable as he moved in his seat.

"What's a muggle?"

Draco flexed his fingers around his cup. "A muggle is someone who can't perform magic."

"So, Mum is a muggle?"

_No, Mum is not a bloody muggle. _Draco cleared his throat. "I suppose." Merlin, his voice cracked. "You'll be able to tell her one day, Scorpius, if that's what you're scared of."

He stared at the table, frowning. "Why can I do magic if Mum can't?"

"Uh—"

Not giving Draco a chance to form a coherent response, Scorpius asked, "Do you think my dad was like me?"

"Possibly," Draco answered tightly. "Have you done anything else since the last time?"

Scorpius shook his head. "How do I learn magic? Will you teach me?"

_Fuck, he's not pulling any punches._

This was quite possibly the worst way the afternoon could have turned out. Of course, Draco wanted to tell Scorpius all of these things, but everything he said ran the risk of Scorpius accidentally letting it slip. It could send Granger into another episode and where would that leave them?

"There's a school," Draco rasped. "You haven't gotten your acceptance letter yet."

"I haven't even _applied_!"

Draco thought two things: that he was too young to know he wanted to bloody _apply_ to schools, and that there would absolutely never be a single doubt that Scorpius was half of Hermione Granger. He couldn't help the loud snort that left him.

Scorpius didn't appear to be the slightest bit amused. "Why are you laughing?"

"You don't have to apply. The Headmistress has a record of all magical children. Don't worry, you'll receive your letter."

"When?"

Fuck, it was one question after another.

"When you're eleven."

"Where is it?"

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "Scotland, if you must know."

"I can't leave Mum." Scorpius folded his arms across his chest. "What if she gets sick or… or forgets something? I have to be here to help her."

Granger's explanation of how this little boy was fiercely protective, and tried to help in all the ways he could, sprang to mind. "Your mum will be okay."

That wasn't a good enough answer, apparently. "Then who will take care of her?" Scorpius leaned forward, his eyes narrowing in a display that was perhaps _too_ Malfoy like for Draco. "Are you going to?"

"Always." Draco's voice was steady. "I promise."

Scorpius let it go and didn't ask another question for the rest of day.

* * *

Night crept in on a day when Draco worked late, and Scorpius had grown antsy as he waited for his newfound favorite person to stroll through the door. Hermione smirked as she sipped her tea with one hand and stirred a pot with the other. "He'll be here, Scorpius."

His head snapped towards her. "I know that."

"He called earlier and told me to expect him later than normal," Hermione reassured him. "I'm sure he'll make it though."

"He never misses dinner." Scorpius tapped his fingers against the back of the chair. It didn't matter how many times she'd told him not to sit backwards in the chair, he did it anyway. In the big picture, it seemed like a small thing to chastise him about. "There was that one week."

She remembered.

Scorpius slid out of his chair, and padded over to her, his cup gripped tightly in little hands. "Mum?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think Draco would be my dad?"

Hermione dropped her cup and it crashed in the sink. It didn't shatter completely, though she expected it to as she stared at it in wait. Only the handle was chipped. "What do you mean?" She swallowed. "We've talked about this…" If that girl from before had put any more thoughts into his head, Hermione swore silently.

Scorpius blinked and blew out a breath. "Can I call Draco Dad?" he asked quietly. "I don't want to call him Draco anymore. I want him to be my dad."

She knelt down, brushing hair from his face. It was, without a doubt, one of the sweetest things she'd ever heard. Yet the desperation in his voice broke her heart. "Ask me next week, sweetheart."

Of course, she'd never planned to have this serious of a conversation so soon. Hermione had intended to let it run for much longer than three months before she accepted the feelings she'd had since the end of the first, and took the plunge. Scorpius changed that, because if Draco wasn't interested in a long term relationship with a single mum—and she truly suspected that if that was the case, he would have been long gone already—the first thing she needed to do was protect her son.

Always.

* * *

Around ten-thirty, there was a knock at the door.

Scorpius got to the door before her, ripping it open despite the protests that she expressed _quite _audibly. Draco smirked, but a long cut along his cheek curbed the usual charm that accompanied it. He crouched down, boots creaking, and ruffled Scorpius' hair. "You know, you're not supposed to answer the door if you don't know who it is."

Huffing, Scorpius folded his arms over his chest. "Who else would it be? You're the only one that comes over."

Hermione snorted.

"Well," Draco said. "That was true this time, but you should always ask who it is before you open the door. _And _you ought to let your mum answer it first."

Scorpius stared at his feet. "I was just excited to see you…" he mumbled. "You're late."

Leaning against the wall, Hermione watched Draco's eyes soften as he held out his arms. "Come here." He wrapped Scorpius in his arms and cupped the back of his head. "I know I'm late, but I was thinking of you the whole time. There's no where I'd rather be than right here."

"Promise?" The small reply was muffled against Draco's shoulder.

Draco rubbed his back, pressing a kiss to the top of his hair. "I promise. Coming here is the best part of my day."

"Mum made me eat earlier because she said it was getting late."

"Yeah." Draco chuckled. "Sorry about that. It's your bedtime now, isn't it?"

Scorpius nodded, stepping back. "Will you read me a bedtime story?"

He looked to Hermione, seeking permission, and she nodded. "Lead the way." Draco straightened.

Hermione closed the door, and twisted the lock into place. All she could think about was how she never wanted _this_ to change

* * *

Hermione tucked her legs beneath her while she sat on the sofa, waiting for Draco to come down. Her stomach twisted even more with each passing second. Draco had come to dinner almost every night since they met, but he'd never missed one after they had slept together. She found herself wondering if that had been a mistake, and if everything was about to fizzle.

The thought of explaining to Scorpius why Draco no longer came to see them cut her in two. _That's not going to happen, _Hermione reassured herself. _Draco already acts like his father, and he's already said that he's serious about this relationship._

Still, if it _did_ fall apart, and that was her trend in recent years it seemed, Hermione hadn't done nearly a good enough job protecting her son, given how close she'd allowed them to become.

Draco's boots were heavy against the wooden stairs and she glanced up. He'd cleaned up, his hands now free of grime and the cut on his cheek was still terrible, but at least there wasn't any dirt. "I'm really sorry for how late I am. I worried it might be too late to stop by, but I didn't want you to believe I'd ever just not show up." He sat beside her on the sofa.

Her once comfortable sofa felt like it was a bed of nails.

"Where do you see us in a year?" The deliverance could have been better. As his jaw fell slack, Hermione admitted, "You're the first person I've been able to trust, Draco. The last few months have been the happiest I've ever been with a man, but I—"

For lack of a better explanation, all of the colour drained from his face. "Wait—are you…" Draco turned to her, gathering her hands in his.

She gave him a watery smile. "No, I'm not saying this because I want to end what we have." Hermione laughed slightly. "Quite the opposite because I'm hoping you'll want to stay after this conversation. I could never ask you to promise me that we won't fall apart—anything can happen at any time—but I need to know if a future with me, with _us, _is what you want. And if it's not, then I'll never hold it against you, but I need to protect my son."

"I don't think there's any version of this life where I wouldn't want you." Draco traced the bumps of her knuckles. "You must think it hasn't been long enough for this, you're a practical person, but I want you and Scorpius, for the rest of my bloody life if you'll allow me. I never want to be apart from you, Hermione. Do you understand?"

He slid closer to her, or maybe she had done so, Hermione wasn't sure, as she tilted her head up, their lips barely brushing. "You won't just be Scorpius' friend, Draco. You'll be his father. Are you prepared for that step? To be a parent to a child that's not truly yours—"

His eyes flickered, sparking to life. "He's _my _son," Draco murmured, resting his forehead against hers. "If you allow me, I think you'd make me the happiest man alive."

Her hands trembled. "He's always wanted a father," Hermione whispered. "Promise me that—" Her voice broke. "Promise me you want this family as badly as I do."

Draco crushed his lips to hers, hands framing her face. "I promise," he rasped. "I'll give both of you everything." His lips slid down her throat.

"All we want is you." Hermione whimpered as his fingers dug into her hips.

"I'm here. I'm always going to be here."

* * *

Potter's brows knit together, his head hovering in green flames as Draco paced the length of his sitting room. "Shouldn't you be more happy about this?" Potter chattered, completely failing to recognise the absolute fucking trouble this could turn out to be. "Hermione is serious about you and she wants you to be a permanent part of their lives. She wants you to be Scorpius' father! I know that you've always been his father, but I thought you'd be happy."

Draco paused, his eyes narrowing, and he knew that the effect wasn't lost, even through the low quality of flickering embers. "Potter," he hissed, his voice dangerously low. "Have you somehow forgotten that, for all intents and purposes, I am bloody _engaged_."

Potter blinked. Then he opened and closed his mouth, words forming but never quite managing to make it out of his throat. Until—

"Oh."

"Yes, _oh_, you little—" Draco dragged his hand down his face, the insult dissolving on his tongue. There was no real malice in it anyway. "I am happy," he murmured, "unbelievably so. Have you discovered anything else surrounding her disappearance?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. But Lucius hasn't stopped looking yet either."

Well, that was fucking perfect.

"How close do you think he is to figuring out where I am?"

Draco watched his partner draw a sharp breath. "I'd give it until the end of the month, judging by how determined he is. The Greengrasses seem to be getting involved in the search now, too. Astoria's father is angry that you've taken off. You were in the Daily Prophet. They said nice things if you're wondering."

"I wasn't." Draco paused. "The end of the month?"

Harry's face was somber. "It's just a worst case scenario, and I know you want to be prepared for it. So, I've finished the withdrawals from the Malfoy vaults to your personal vault. If you have to go, then…"

Staring at the ceiling, Draco expelled a deep breath. "You're a good friend, Potter."

* * *

Hermione hadn't had _the_talk with Scorpius yet. When she thought about it, there was no true reason for putting it off beyond her own fears.

However, the shift had been noticeable. Draco had always treated her son with the utmost respect, but now… Hermione couldn't explain it properly. It was _different_. There was a visible shift from acting like a man Scorpius knew to acting like a father. Draco had made the change so easily, so seamlessly.

Christmas drew closer with every day, and Hermione had completed most of her shopping. At least, she _thought _she was done, until Draco knocked on her door while Scorpius was with Clara, and asked her if he could purchase gifts as well.

She'd told him there was no need to spoil Scorpius quite so much, but upon seeing the grin that lit his face, Hermione decided to keep that opinion to herself.

"Do you think he'd like this?" Draco asked, pulling a toy from the top shelf. Under the harsh lights of the store, the ring on his finger glinted, and Hermione paused at the M inscription. "Hermione?"

She nodded. "He'll love anything you give him, but he's obsessed with dragons right now. Has been for a few months." Hermione grinned. "I can't imagine where he got that from."

The smile that curved Draco's lips was blinding, and he slipped an arm around her waist to tug her close. He kissed her forehead and dumped the toy into the trolley. "Mmm, I wonder." Draco chuckled, but straightened when his gaze was caught by something over her shoulder. "Do you think he'd like a bike?"

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, she informed him that a bike was at the top of his Christmas list.

* * *

Flakes fell outside the window as they decorated the tree. Hermione drew the curtains back, letting light shine in, and watching Scorpius stare at the snow blanketing the ground with childlike wonder. It was one of the best parts of the season.

Hermione arranged the garland and helped Scorpius string the lights at the points where he couldn't reach. He opened the box of ornaments, and picked up each bauble, running a finger over the surface. Draco threw him up on his shoulders, and Scorpius hung the ornaments just how he wanted—none of them made it to the backside of the tree—before he nestled the topper at the very top.

Scorpius looked down, hair falling into his face. "Can we have a snowball fight?"

Comically, both of them looked to her at the same time. "Can we?" Draco echoed.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione said, "As long as you bundle up well."

She joined them outside, tugging her gloves on, and watched them chase one another across the lawn until a snowball met her back. Hermione turned to see Draco standing with another snowball in hand, a wild smirk crossing his face.

"You're going to regret that!" Hermione chased after him and laughed when Scorpius was delighted to join forces and gang up on Draco.

* * *

Close to midnight, Draco slid between her thighs, the palm of his hand gliding down the curve of her spine. Her legs rested over his, and he lifted her, nails dragging a path down her flesh that caused the hair on her arms to stand on end. "Quiet," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

She gasped, locking her legs around his waist, and dug her nails into his shoulders. "I would be quiet if you would stop teasing."

Moonlight cut across the room, across the bed, and illuminated the tilt of his lips. "I'm hardly teasing."

Hermione was not inclined to agree, but as she slid down on him, she wasn't of the mind to argue anymore. "I love this," she whispered, rocking against him and raising her head. "I mean to say…" She whimpered when he thrust up to meet her. "I love knowing that at the end of the day—"

Draco set a slow pace that robbed her of any breath, and she couldn't get the words out. "I love coming home to you," he murmured, eyes half lidded yet bright. "Knowing that no matter how terrible a day can get, I'm coming home to you."

"Home," Hermione repeated, but she hadn't meant to say it out loud. "I like that." She smiled, and seconds later, threw her head back as her orgasm crested.

* * *

**In case you weren't already aware, I've fudged up a lot of canon for this story. To be honest, I've never read all of DH because I don't actually like things to end. So if the RoR scene is different, that's why. **

**Let me know what you think. See you next week for chapter fifteen. *cackles***


	15. Chapter 15

**Hellooooo, it's still Tuesday here so I'm not late. All my love to dreamsofdramione and mcal. There's only one chapter left of this story for me to write and this story will conclude at the end of March. **

**I don't know what I'm going to do when I hit a thousand reviews on FFN, which is a goal I've had since 2008 when I was 12, but I can guaran-fucking-tee I'm going to lose my shit.**

**Moments after writing this note, I decided I wanted to do a oneshot giveaway. For the 1000th reviewer, because holy shit this has never happened, I'll write you a oneshot with your choice of prompt and pairing. It can be a completely new thing, or related to one of my other stories. You'll have to be signed in so I can contact you. I just thought it would be a fun thing to do, but this will be limited to FFN only. Happy reading!**

* * *

On Christmas Eve, Hermione found herself wrapping presents, and just like every other year, she'd put it off until the last second. At least she had Draco's help this year, but as she watched him use an entire roll of clear tape on one gift, she wasn't sure how much help he actually was.

"You make this look easy." Draco grit his teeth and held up what she _thought _was meant to be a present.

Hermione tilted her head to the side. "Which gift is that?"

"Board game." His lips curved into a grimace as he spotted a spot left uncovered by the shoddy wrapping job.

"Are you sure?" Hermione laughed and held a hand out for it before slowly unwrapping it. None of the wrapping paper previously used could be salvaged.

As they sat in the middle of the sitting room, Hermione hummed to herself while Draco sipped his tea. "Is he excited for Christmas?"

"He tells me every night that this is the year he's going to catch Santa Claus." Hermione finished wrapping and slid the gift across the wooden floor. It bumped into the other presents gathered under the tree, and she drew her lip between her teeth. "I think you may have bought him too many gifts."

Draco's gaze followed hers and he grinned. "Does it bother you?"

Well, no. As a mother, she wanted her son to have everything in the world, but there _was _such a thing as being too spoiled. Hermione shook her head. "No. I guess not. Honestly, I can't wait to see his face when he comes home today. He's going to lose it."

"How long exactly," Draco tugged at his collar, a sly smile curving his lips, "do we have until he comes home?"

Hermione pushed unwrapped gifts to the side and slipped his tie around her fingers, tugging him to the floor with her.

* * *

"But Mum—" Scorpius' lower lip wobbled as he motioned down the stairs.

"_No._" Hermione cast a look over her shoulder. Draco was leaning against the wall at the end of the corridor. "If you catch Santa Claus while he's delivering presents, you won't get any at all."

He braced his hands on his hips and glared at her. "Well, I'll still have what you and Draco—"

"Santa will take all of it," Draco chimed in.

There was a squeak. "But—but—but I've been a good kid!"

"Hmm," Draco drawled. "Arguing with your mum isn't very nice though."

Scorpius sighed. "_Fine. _I'll go to sleep. Goodnight." He padded into his room and shut the door—for dramatic effect it seemed—before opening it a crack for light to trickle in. "Love you."

She giggled. "I love you, too. We'll see you in the morning."

Hermione hurried down the stairs with Draco close behind her, running her fingers along the banister. "I'll need to wait for him to fall asleep before bringing presents downstairs. I swear it gets harder every year to keep the magic of Christmas alive. He's always so nosy."

Draco twisted a curl around his finger and she paused. "Have I ever told you what a wonderful mum you are?" he asked quietly. The lights decorating the tree flickered behind him. "It's unbelievable to watch."

Her voice was lodged in her throat as she attempted to form a reply. "I try my best."

The pads of his fingers skimmed her cheek. "You succeed, but what you said made me wonder if you believe he's starting not to believe in Santa Claus?"

Blowing a breath out, Hermione nodded. "There was an older child in the shop last year and he told Scorpius that he wasn't real. Scorpius hasn't said anything to me, but I think he's just about figured out that it's me putting presents under the tree."

"Go upstairs." A sly smirk curled on Draco's lips. "I'm going to walk on the roof."

Her eyes widened. "_What?!_ You're _not _going to stomp around up there, Draco. You could bloody fall! Where will that leave us?"

"At worst, I'll have a broken limb," Draco said nonchalantly. "I'm kidding. I'm not going to fall. My job puts me in all sorts of unsavory situations, remember?" Pressing his thumb under her chin, he lifted her head. "Let me do this."

Even though she feared she might regret it, Hermione nodded.

Draco kissed her temple before grabbing his coat off the rack and hurrying out the door.

By the time she climbed the stairs and entered her son's room, Hermione found Scorpius still awake. His arms were folded over his chest as he stared at the ceiling. "Can't sleep?" she asked, taking a seat beside him. "Draco was called into work, but he'll be here before you wake up."

He sat up, bracing himself against the headboard. "Are you sure he'll be back in time?"

"Draco will be here before you even have the chance to wake up."

Scorpius' brows furrowed. "I don't know. I can wake up pretty early."

Hermione snorted. "Except for the other three hundred and sixty four days of the year."

"Unless it's a leap year."

Well, he had a point.

_Stomp._

Scorpius' eyes widened as he stared at the ceiling. "Is that—"

_Stomp._

She watched his grin grow and his fingers tighten on his blanket. "It sounds like Santa Claus made it to our house early this year." Hermione combed her fingers through his hair.

He let out a surprised squeal when footsteps sounded just over their heads. "It's Santa!" Scorpius screeched and there was no doubt Draco heard it.

Half expecting a loud crash to follow Scorpius' excitement, Hermione waited with bated breath to hear Draco fall off the roof. By some miracle, he didn't. Grinning at her son, she gathered Scorpius' hands in her own. "Now, you have to go to sleep."

"But—"

"The sooner you fall asleep, the sooner you'll be able to wake up and see what Santa brought you."

Reluctantly, Scorpius wrapped his blanket around him and rolled over. She heard him mutter, "Fine.

* * *

Hermione slipped out of the room, and made her way downstairs to see Draco kick off his boots at the door. He brushed snow flurries from his hair and grinned at her. "Did it work?"

"It did." Hermione smiled. "Would you like to help me put the presents under the tree?"

Draco closed the distance between them in two long strides. "We should wait until you're sure he's asleep. He might try to sneak down here to get a peek and all he'll see is mummy kissing Santa Claus." He took a cookie from the plate Scorpius had left out. "This is payment." Hermione quirked a brow. "For my hard work."

She folded her arms over her chest with a quiet laugh. "Sit down with me for a while."

* * *

They arranged the foil wrapped gifts under the tree just after midnight and Hermione focused on the smile stretching his lips. "Happy Christmas, Draco." She pulled a small box from her pocket and held it out to him before pressing it into his palm. "It's not much, but I wanted to make sure you knew just how grateful I am to have you around this year."

Her stomach fluttered as he stared down at her, his lips parting slightly as a breath escaped him. "You didn't have to."

"I _wanted _to. Now, open it!"

Draco chuckled and carefully pulled the ribbon so it would unravel. He opened the box and paused. Nestled inside was a pair of cuff links she'd found in a shop not far from her work.

"Do you like them?" One second of silence followed another. "If not, that's—"

He nodded. "I have quite the collection of cuff links back in England. My grandfather handed down his collection to me to continue, but I have to say..." Draco brushed her hair from her face, his thumb skimming the high of her cheek. "These are my favorite."

Hermione slid her palms up his chest and wound her arms around his neck. They swayed together, the box still gripped in his hand while the other gripped her waist and she rested her cheek against his chest.

The words were on the tip of her tongue, but his fingers traced a slow path down the curve of her spine, and she forgot how to speak.

* * *

They stumbled into her bedroom, keeping their footsteps light as his mouth slanted over hers. Draco's hands gripped her waist, fingers curling around the soft swell of her hips as he picked her up. Glancing over his shoulder, Hermione watched him as he made certain no little eyes were spying on them.

Hermione's fingers sank into his hair and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Tugging on the strands slightly, she caught him grinning. "We have to be quiet," Hermione whispered, cupping his jaw and tilting his head back.

"I'm not the one who has difficulty being quiet, love. That's you." His fingers slipped between them, sliding to the apex of her thighs, and he slowly rubbed her clit through her joggers. A whimper slipped through her teeth. "See, there you are again. Not that I'm complaining, of course, but if we're to—"

She pinched his nipple, cutting him off. "Have I ever told you that you talk too much?"

"Only when you're impatient that my head isn't between your—"

Pinch.

"Then maybe you should work on that."

Her back was pressed against the door, each bump in the wood curved against her spine. Draco pulled her away and laid her across the bed. With nimble fingers—that entered her her thoughts more often than she'd ever admit out loud—Draco unbuttoned his shirt slowly as his eyes raked over her, tracing each movement she made.

Her shirt went first as she curled her fingers around the hem and she tugged it over her head. Spurred on by the way his eyes darkened and his tongue darted out to slide against his lower lip, Hermione arched off the bed and pushed her joggers down her legs, exposing inch after inch of bare skin\\. "You're overdressed." She reached behind her back to unclasp her bra.

"I'll take those off," Draco rasped, his clothes already joining hers.

The mattress dipped below his knee and he crawled towards her. As he came to rest between her thighs, Draco slowly ran the tips of his fingers over her skin, the corner of his mouth twitching as she shuddered.

Normally she was always so impatient, but Hermione didn't urge him to hurry. Her head fell back, resting against the pillows, and low, keening sounds fell from her lips as he traced an invisible path over her skin. Nearly shaking by the time he hooked his fingers into the elastic band of her knickers, Hermione sighed in relief as he peeled them off.

Draco lowered his mouth, running his tongue through her folds, and she sought out his hands with her own. Lacing their fingers together, he swirled his tongue on the spot she craved his touch the most and her back arched off the bed.

"Bloody—" She hissed, her legs tensing.

"Quiet." He chuckled and blew a hard breath over her clit.

A shiver rolled down her spine.

Hermione wasn't altogether certain what sounds slipped from her lips as he brought her to the edge. Perhaps it was the sound of her breathily begging—_I'm so close, Draco. Please—_ or maybe it was nonsensical whims of nothing. It could have been whimpers that had blurred together as she fought to keep them muffled by holding her palm over her lips.

Either way, she heard the sound of her pleasure cresting, and the pit of her stomach tightened.

Her nails dug into the back of his hand as her back arched and she managed a ragged breath that was only his name.

Over and over again.

"Come here," Hermione said, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. She gripped his shoulders as she sat on her knees, pushing him onto his back before she straddled him. Lifting a finger to her lips, she motioned for him to be _quiet_. "Is this okay?"

He nodded and reached to cup her arse. Draco kissed her then, possibly slower than he ever had, and Hermione felt as if her heart was going to burst.

This—This feeling was all encompassing.

The words were on the tip of Hermione's tongue as she rocked against him. Her hands wandered over his chest and as she met his eyes.

Draco whispered something unintelligible in the crook of her neck and she thought it sounded like everything she'd ever wanted to hear.

* * *

"Wake up!" The words were punctuated by the door slamming open and Hermione shot up. Scorpius' fingers were still curled around the door knob, and light blond hair was sticking out in every direction. There was a wide smile on his face that made nearly all of her irritation dissipate.

_Nearly._

Draco stirred, dragging a pillow down over his face as he rolled over.

Scorpius stared at him, his lips parting as he looked to him and then her then back again. A silent question formed on his lips and his brows knitted together as he attempted to put it into words. Hermione caught his attention and nodded.

Just when she would have thought it wasn't possible, Scorpius' grin widened. "Yeah?"

"Yes." It wasn't how she'd hoped he'd find out, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Be quiet. 'M sleeping," Draco groaned.

Scorpius crawled onto the bed and jumped on top of him, digging his elbow into Draco's ribs.

He coughed, sitting straight up and locking his arms around Scorpius as the boy squealed. "It's not nice to jump on people when they're sleeping," Draco growled, tickling his sides.

"You can't sleep in on Christmas!"

Hermione leaned against the headboard, blowing out a breath as she looked at both of them. Pink dusted Draco's cheeks and Scorpius sported a near identical flush. They looked so much alike it made her heart clench. "Scorpius, why don't you head downstairs? We'll be right there."

He looked like he didn't believe her, but slid off the side of the bed and padded out of the room anyway. As he reached the doorway, he turned to face them with a determined furrow to his brows. "You've got two minutes."

Draco snorted. "He's not wasting any time, is he?" His hand found hers and Draco ran his thumb over her knuckles. "What is it?"

Knowing they probably only had a minute before her son stormed back into the room—he was so bloody impatient—Hermione didn't hesitate as her stomach tied itself into knots. "He found us sleeping in bed together. It just—It all feels so much more real now. He's always been a clever little boy, so I have no doubt he'd already put the pieces together. But..."

His fingers skimmed her face. "Does it still scare you?"

Nodding, Hermione leaned into the hand that cupped her face. "Of course it does, but everything is a little less turbulent with you around."

A slow, barely there smile curved his lips. Draco traced her lower lip gently as he murmured, "Happy Christmas, Granger."

* * *

By the time Hermione and Draco reached the bottom of the stairs, they found Scorpius waiting for them, rocking back on the balls of his feet with a curious look on his face. Hermione arched a brow as he followed her into the kitchen while Draco moved towards the sofa.

"Mum?"

She pulled two mugs from the cupboard, the ceramic sounding off as they knocked against the other. "Yes?"

"Can Draco be my dad?"

The mug that Scorpius had painted for her months ago nearly slipped out of her fingers. Turning to face him, Hermione found his eyes wide open, twinkling with that childlike hope she never wanted him to lose. Her stomach shifted, tendrils of anxiety and panic lacing together, but this time, she didn't push the subject away out of fear.

Crouching down, Hermione held each of his shoulders. "I think you'll have to ask him, but I'd bet he'll say yes."

In fact, she already _knew _he would. Hermione suspected that, one some level, Scorpius did as well. She smirked as she watched her son rush into the sitting room and grab a present, ready to rip it open.

This Christmas was unlike any other they had shared together and it wasn't only due to Draco's presence. Hermione could remember Scorpius' first Christmas. He'd been eleven months old, and he didn't fully understand the concept of wrapping paper, but he'd pawed at it anyway.

She fondly recalled cradling him in her arms and resting him on her hip every night while pointing to the baubles on the tree. He'd always reached for the lights, the tinsel, and she still had the photos of him wrapped up in the silvery strands. Clara had taken a picture of the two of them—she and Scorpius—with the decorations draped over her head while Scorpius reached for them.

The memory caused her to pause. She'd been too swept up in being careful in the beginning to soak up every second—which wasn't to say she didn't feel the same way now. She'd been afraid that someone would hurt her or hurt _him_ for simply existing.

And the fear had never truly gone away. But something had shifted.

Hermione lingered in the doorway after putting the kettle on. Scorpius shook his present, putting his ear to the side of it in an effort to guess what it was. Draco laughed, raising a hand to hide his grin and Scorpius aimed to earn that laugh again.

_I want to remember everything just like this._

The cushion dipped as she sat next to Draco, sliding closer and tucking her legs beneath her. Scorpius took one look at her and ripped the wrapping paper to shreds.

Draco's chest shook when he laughed. "God, he's not even stopping to look at them all."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What did you expect him to do when you bought so many presents? Honestly, Draco, you nearly covered my entire floor in them!"

"I did not. There's an empty spot over there." Indeed, there was one single spot beneath the large windows that was empty.

"You're ridiculous." Blowing out a amused breath, it was impossible to feign irritation.

He threaded their fingers together, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Shite, should I not have done that?"

His worry was endearing. "I would be offended if you told me you wished you hadn't." She smiled. "I should probably tell you that—" Hermione began just as Draco pointed to a large, terribly wrapped gift below the twinkling tree. "Is that for me?'

He nodded. "What did you want to tell me?"

Hermione carefully stepped over the various toys that now littered the floor and shook her head. "You'll find out soon." Had he not interrupted her, she would have told him what Scorpius had asked, but now that she had a moment to think, Hermione knew he should hear it straight from Scorpius.

"Mum," Scorpius huffed. "You've got to rip it open, like this." The last word was punctuated by wrapping paper tearing.

She laughed. "I don't want to make a mess."

"Oh, thank you." It was a set of floating bookshelves she'd mentioned weeks ago, and there was a full bookcase wrapped below them. "They're lovely."

"I'll be happy once they're up so I'm not constantly tripping over books."

"But… but Mummy keeps all her books in her room." Scorpius said, glancing up for only a moment, and horror claimed Draco's features.

Giggling, Hermione reclaimed her spot on the couch. "Don't worry. He won't ask why you were in my room." He reached into his pocket and she tilted her head. "Another present?"

Draco smirked. "You didn't think I would only buy you a set of bookshelves, did you?"

"Truthfully, I thought you might buy me more books."

"Oh, those are on order. They weren't able to get them in time for Christmas, but they'll be in by the end of the week. Victoire helped me."

Her nose crinkled. So, he'd ordered books from her shop. _How did she miss that?_

"She gave me the list you keep under the counter for books you plan to buy." He fidgeted with a stubborn curl that wouldn't stay behind her ear, slowing winding it around his finger before letting it go. Draco pressed the box into her palm and his fingers brushed hers. "What are you waiting for? Open it."

With his soft words rattling around in her head, Hermione spared a glance at Scorpius—who was holding up wrapping paper for Crooks to jump at—and cracked open the lid. Nestled in the velvet fabric was a delicate chain, and in the middle, Hermione found a pendant.

Balancing the box on her knee, Hermione carefully held up the necklace, discovering that the pendant was actually a locket. "This is gorgeous."

Draco twisted his finger, coaxing her to turn in her seat. "I put a picture of Scorpius inside. Turn around and let me put it on."

His fingers brushed the nape of her neck as he closed the clasp. It was a long chain, and the locket fell to her chest. Hermione opened it, sliding her nail gently between the small gap. "_Oh_," she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as her eyes began to water. "He was still just a baby. Where on earth did you get this?"

"Clara."

She leaned into him, cradling the necklace as she looked over Scorpius' chubby cheeks. He'd been laughing.

It was still her favorite sound in the world.

Hermione hadn't noticed Scorpius inching toward them until he stood between Draco's knees. He peered up at Draco and butterflies formed in her stomach as she watched Draco's features soften.

Draco picked him up and set Scorpius on his lap. Crooks quickly joined them, deftly hopping onto the armchair. "Did you get everything you wanted for Christmas?"

"Almost." Scorpius stared at his hand and bit his lower lip. "Can I call you dad?"

A strangled sound came from Draco's throat. His eyes shot to hers, riddled with questions, and blanketed by surprise.

She nodded.

Draco's arms locked around Scorpius as he pulled him into a tight hug. "Of course you can." He glanced at Hermione over Scorpius' head, a soft smile curving his lips.

Hermione rubbed her—_their, _she thought—son's back while leaning her head on Draco's shoulder. There was a knock at the door and she pulled away. "That should be Clara. She told me she'd be dropping by."

Leaving the two of them with a glance over her shoulder, her chest warming as Scorpius snuggled into Draco's hard chest, the knocking continued.

Not bothering with the peephole, she closed her fingers around the door knob and allowed the door to swing open.

It wasn't Clara.

In fact, it was a woman Hermione was almost certain she'd never seen before in her life.

"Hermione Granger?" The woman choked as Hermione took in her dark waves with blonde highlights. Green eyes narrowed, cherry painted lips pressing into a thin line. "You're—I thought you were—"

"I'm sorry… Have we met?" Two thoughts that hadn't fully formed brushed against one another in her mind. "Miss?"

Draco's hand smoothed down her spine as he came to the door, but he stiffened once his eyes landed on the woman. "What are you doing here, Astoria?" The words came through gritted teeth, and his fingers curled around Hermione's hip possessively.

"I was about to ask _you_ the same question."

Quiet, rapid footsteps rushed up behind them, and Scorpius tugged on Draco's shirt. "Dad, I need help with a toy."

It was clear to Hermione that Scorpius was just testing out the new word, but she had little doubt he would say it every chance he got.

Draco smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Astoria's mouth dropped open. "Are you bloody serious, Draco?" Her false demeanor of politeness melted away as she poked a nail into his chest.

Hermione pushed her hand away, frowning. "Do the two of you know each other?"

Perfect red lips twitched and Astoria smiled cruelly. "We're engaged. Or we _were._" The door slammed shut and she could barely hear the echo of high heels descending the stairs over the pounding of her pulse in her eardrums.

_Engaged._

_He left England for a reason, Hermione._

_Engaged._

_He. Was. Engaged._

She turned to Draco, finding him deathly pale. "Scorpius, I want you to go to your room. Don't come out. Take some toys and I'll be up in a few minutes." Miraculously, her voice remained even.

"But Mum, I want to play with Da—"

Hermione shook her head. "Later, Scorpius. Please go upstairs."

Glancing between the two adults, Scorpius slunk away. Hermione watched Crooks follow him up the stairs.

"Is she lying?" It was a whisper, hardly a breath that she could force herself to take.

He swallowed, his throat bobbing with the motion. "It's not what it sounds like, Hermione."

"I didn't ask you what it sounded like. If you recall, I heard it myself. I asked you if it is _true_?"

Another gulp.

His fingers flexed and his hands curled into fists. "Hermione, I—"

The floor swayed below her as her legs threatened to collapse. "Get out."

"Hermione, please let me explain. It's not—"

"What I think? Why is that what liars always say?" She folded her arms over her chest. "I don't want to look at you. I can't even stand the thought of you right now." Hermione wiped her eyes with her palms and a choked sob escaped her. "I have to go upstairs and explain to Scorpius that you were called away because I have no intention of telling him that the person he wanted to call his father is a fucking liar."

Draco reached for her and his fingers barely brushed her shoulder. "You weren't supposed to find out this way."

"Was I meant to find out at all?"

He sighed. "Won't you let me explain?"

"I think you gave up that chance when your fiancée delivered the blow herself," she snapped. "Please go."

He wanted to kiss her. She saw it etched into his face just beside the regret, though she wasn't sure if the regret was only due to being caught. "I'm so sorry," Draco whispered just before the door opened and closed behind him.

Left in the quiet entryway, Hermione reached for the necklace. Running her thumb across it, she murmured, "Me too."

* * *

**Scream at me in my askbox on tumblr at mrsren96!**

**This note was not added at the beginning to preserve the twist. **

***I have recently been called the Queen of CliffHangers. Lololol. I typically do not use these heavily, but I am going to put a blanket warning out there that the rest of The Best of Me save for chapter twenty (which is the last chapter, mind you) may have multiple of these. In fact, I'm positive there is more drama in the last five chapters than the rest of the story. So, make your own decision on whether you want to read. If you do, I suggest buckling in if you stay. **

**It might get rough. **


	16. Chapter 16

**Love to dreamsofdramione and mcal. All mistakes are my own. This chapter is on the shorter end and chapter seventeen is near double length. I hit a 1000 reviews. THAT'S INSANE. Thank you so much. I'm so happy that I've written something that's been enjoyed. **

**That being said, The Best of Me is completely written on my end, and will be resuming a regular weekly update schedule through the end of March to allow time for editing. **

* * *

He couldn't breathe.

It had been hours since Astoria had turned up and flipped his world upside down and he still couldn't bloody _breathe. _Hermione hadn't been interested in hearing his explanation and he couldn't blame her. She'd slammed her front door in his face, nearly catching his nose in the process.

The first thing he did was call Potter.

No, the first thing he did was cast a silencing charm on his home and scream until his throat was hoarse. Maybe it was childish, but he needed to get it _out_ so he could focus. It was problematic that Hermione might never speak to him again after being caught in such an egregious lie. The odds were currently stacked against him.

Hermione was furious. He might never get the chance to explain himself. Draco couldn't fault her if she shut him out for good. Not only did she need to protect herself, she needed to protect her son, too.

Draco knocked a vase that Hermione had bought from the counter.

It had gutted Hermione when he'd admitted Astoria was telling the truth. He'd watched her face drain of colour and all the joy in her eyes flickered away as she fidgeted with the locket. But Scorpius... He was the most hurt in all of this. Draco worried that his son might never forgive him.

He was so protective of his mother.

After he tempered his rage, Draco moved to the fireplace to call Potter, but in the same moment, the Floo came to life.

Potter's head floated in the flames. "Astoria came to France?" he hissed.

"I was about to call you."

"No fucking need. Are you with Hermione?"

"Do you think I'd be talking to you on the Floo if I were?" Draco shot back. "No, I'm not. She kicked me out after Astoria told her she was my fiancée. It went about as well as you could expect."

Harry let out a string of profanities. "This is bad, Draco. Robards is minutes—no, fucking _seconds_—from sending a team of aurors into that town."

He should have realised what his partner was saying the instant it left his mouth, but Draco paused. "Why is he sending aurors?"

"Draco," Potter growled. "Astoria is a ditsy, whiny socialite. What do you think she did the second she landed in England?"

_Oh._

_Fuck._

With his stomach twisting, Draco grew even sicker. "Is she in danger?"

"Hard to say for certain, but we assume whoever assisted in the curse lives in England. If they do… Well, it's too late to keep this quiet. I'm sorry." Harry's lips flattened into a grimace. "You're out of your engagement. The Greengrasses terminated the agreement when Astoria returned with the news that you had a son. Your parents know. They're already filing with the Department of Live Births to dispute paternity."

"What?" Draco's mouth fell open. "Scorpius is _my_ son. There is no disputing it! Even Astoria could see that and I've no doubt she's telling anyone who will listen the same thing." His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. "Potter, who knows Granger is his mother?" Each word came out as a whisper no matter how hard he attempted to even out his tone. "_Answer me_."

"Everyone knows." Harry leaned to the side and there was a rustle of papers before he held up an issue of the Daily Prophet. "Robards got an advance copy. They're going to run it tomorrow."

**MALFOY-GREENGRASS BETROTHAL DISSOLVED**

**HERMIONE GRANGER, FOUND ALIVE, AND THE MOTHER TO THE NEWEST MALFOY HEIR.**

Draco knew they didn't have all of the facts, but the ones they'd reported so far were correct. Granted, he couldn't make out the small print that dotted the rest of the page.

His chest threatened to cave in and Draco stumbled backwards to sit on the coffee table, his shoulders slumping.

Harry threw it down. "I'm leaving with a portkey in two days. Robards issued it to me and told me there were other complications you needed to be informed of—_in person."_

Draco barely heard him. It couldn't possibly get any worse. "Right. I'll see you."

"Another thing," Harry tugged at his collar. "Ron's coming."

It apparently _could _get worse.

* * *

Weasley barged into his home without knocking and pinned him with a harsh glare. Some things never changed. He looked like he would have rather struck Draco as he stomped forward, his boots creating heavy footfalls against the wood floor. Ron took him by surprise when his hands curled around his shoulder and he yanked him forward. "Just so you know, I'm still irritated Robards decided this was a need to know basis and I didn't make the cut, but fuck, you look like shite." He hugged Draco—a one armed sort of hug that didn't last long—and clapped him awkwardly on the back.

"I would have told you if I could," Draco muttered.

"Yeah, I know. Can't really blame you, can I? Fuck, I can't believe she's been here all this time." Ron raked his fingers through his hair, pivoting to look around. "She decorated, didn't she? You're fucking hopeless, so I know this wasn't your doing."

"Piss off, Weasley."

Harry watched them with thinly veiled amusement. "How are you holding up?"

"Is it not obvious? I mean, look at his face."

"Thanks." Draco scoffed.

"No," Ron started. "I just mean that we already know you're doing shitty, and you probably don't want to talk about it."

Draco rubbed his temples. "Did you have to bring him?"

"As if I was going to give you lot a choice! Hermione's my best mate, too, you know. Knowing she's alive…" Ron shook his head. "I just want to see it for myself to believe it."

"Unfortunately, she's likely to throw something at me right now or I would arrange that." Draco motioned for them to sit, but both Harry and Ron shared an uncomfortable look. "What is it?"

Ron tilted his head toward the sofa. "Actually, mate, you should probably sit down." He forced Draco to sit down and perched himself on the table in front of him.

As if he hadn't already been worried enough, the atmosphere in the room sank. "You mentioned complications when you called. How could this possibly get worse? Granger's already in danger, I know, and it's the last thing I need, but—"

Harry raised his hand. "Yeah, that's not actually the bad news. Healer Smith got her medical records from her doctor here. Dr Caron has no idea that his newest receptionist is actually an auror. I've never met her, but Robards sent her after you told me Hermione had made an appointment. Did she tell you they scheduled brain scans?"

Even though his lips moved, no words came out.

It took a few extra seconds, but eventually Draco nodded.

"She's showing signs of losing her mind. Healer Smith says the window for her to remember safely is rapidly closing by the day." He knew Potter was holding back by the way his partner was about to gnaw a hole through his lower lip. "Draco—"

"Get to the fucking point, Potter."

Harry's fingers curled around the edge of the table. "If she doesn't remember soon, she'll have to be permanently Obliviated or she'll lose her mind." It all came out in one breath and Draco shot off the couch.

"_What?"_

"Malfoy—"

"Scorpius is going to receive his Hogwarts letter—"

_She had to remember eventually. She had to. There was no other option._

"Yeah, you won't like this either, but they're talking about some law that—"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" He knew the one. "I'm not going to allow anyone to take him from his mother."

_I can't do this without her._

"Look, if this goes tits up, she'll never be able to see him get on the platform. Draco, it will kill her."

Draco dragged his fingers through his hair. "I'm not giving up on her."

"You need to accept that you might have to!" Harry barked.

Weasley stepped backward, seemingly sensing what came next.

"Fuck you! Don't you want her back?!" Draco shouted

Harry rose to his feet, his eyes narrowing at the accusation. "You need to watch yourself right now. I know you're hurt, but—"

"Sure, blame it on the fact that I'm upset, but it sounds like you're just too fucking scared to—"

Harry's knuckles connected with Draco's jaw, sending him backwards. "Of course I want her back, but I'm not going to kill her to do it!. Are you?"

* * *

After swallowing a mild pain potion for his sore jaw and contemplating whether he wanted to return the favor in kind, Draco pulled a bottle of Ogden's from the cupboard. Gulping down mouthfuls straight from the bottle, he watched snow fall beyond the window in the kitchen. The fireplace crackled in the other room, and between drinks, Draco watched a patch of ice forming on the window.

Half of him—the better half—felt like it had been ripped away from him. The only thing to assuage the ache was _her_ and he knew how unlikely it was that she'd speak to him anytime soon.

So, when a knock came at the door, he _hoped _it would be Granger standing on the other side of the room, but Draco was unsurprised when she was nowhere in sight. Clara, however, stood on his porch, a brow raised and her lips pursed. She looked… _annoyed._ Clara pushed past him into the house and spun around, resting her hands on her hips.

"Tell me, do you have a Sober Up potion? It looks like you're going to need one if you're planning on drowning your sorrows in that bottle." She waved a hand. "Close your mouth, love. You can't be too surprised, can you? Hermione told me what happened."

His vision swam. "You're a witch."

Her wand slid into her hand from within her sleeve and she held it up. "It would seem so and so is Hermione."

"You know who she is," Draco breathed, his fingers tightening around the bottle until his skin was pinched between his signet ring and the smooth surface of the glass. "You've always known, haven't you?"

"No, I haven't always known." Clara sheathed her wand. "When I found her, I had no idea she was a witch, but I knew she'd been cursed. Dark magic is a terrible thing. It pollutes the air as it encases its victim, but I suspect you're familiar." She clasped her hands in front of her, swaying from side to side in the middle of the room. "I know who you are. I know after the war, the papers proved what you had done for Hermione and those two boys."

"Why wouldn't you contact the British Ministry if you knew who she was?"

She grimaced, but it was only slight. "I heard what they said about you, but I was never sure if you were the one who sent her here."

"I could _never_—"

"How could I have known that back then? How was I to know how deep your loyalty to your family ran once the war was over? Yes, you left them during Voldemort's reign—may he never find peace—but I recall a time when I would have done anything to gain the favour of mine. Fathering a child with a Muggleborn would certainly lead to you being blasted off your family tree." Clara paused, looking him up and down. "I know now that I was wrong."

He nodded. "Yes, you were."

"The Greengrasses?" Clara's eyes raked over him. "They're a slimy bunch—especially that girl's father. They've been in disrepair since the end of the war."

"You know them?" Clara nodded and the floor shifted under his feet. "Why are you telling me you're a witch now?"

Running her fingers along the back of the chair, Clara hummed. "I suspect that you and I will need to work together soon. I've always looked out for them, and I have no intention of stopping now. However, what you need to do right now is go to Hermione."

"She doesn't want to see me."

Clara sighed. "Hermione's hurt, but she's hurting more without you. None of this can be resolved until you go to her, and Draco, she'll be safer if you're near."

He tipped the bottle to his mouth. "Fuck." Draco nodded. "I'll go. Just give me a few minutes."

"Would you like that potion now?"

_No. _"I think I'll need the rest of this bottle in order to grovel properly."

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Try not to vomit on her shoes, dear. We'll talk again, but first…"

Draco flexed his fingers around the neck of the bottle.

* * *

She returned to work the next day—the day after Christmas wasn't particularly busy—and ignored the note slipped through the slot in the door. Her name was written across it in neat penmanship that she recognised instantly and she chucked it to the side. After Draco left on Christmas, Scorpius had been crestfallen and it cut her deeply not to allow Scorpius to make his way down the street. She'd considered it heavily.

Even though she was furious, Hermione had little doubt they were going to work it out. They had already grown so close in the short span of a few months, and there was no way Draco would have risked everything without reason.

In spite of that, she wasn't likely to agree with his reasoning and she _did _need space from him.

Unfortunately, he didn't seem to understand that. If Draco _did _understand it, he'd chosen to willfully ignore it because a few days later, Hermione came home to find Draco sitting on her front porch, his elbows resting on his knees as he hung his head. From a few steps away, she thought he smelled of whiskey—and a hint of cinnamon—and she wanted to have pity. Honestly, her anger faltered before it rose again.

"You know you're not supposed to be here."

He carded his fingers through his hair and his heavy sigh reached her across the expanse of the porch. "Will you please give me a chance to explain? It's not what you think."

Not that he could see it, but she nodded. "Of course I'm going to give you a chance to explain, Draco, but it's not going to be right now. _Especially _not when you're drunk on my porch."

"Did you tell him?" Draco's voice cracked.

Unable to stop herself, she took a seat beside him, her knee brushing his. "Of course not. Scorpius doesn't need to know who Astoria is."

"Does he think I just left? God, Hermione, I would _never_ leave the two of you." He leaned into her, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

She rubbed his back. "No, he doesn't think that. As far as Scorpius knows, you've been called away to handle a family matter." Hermione tilted his head up. "Have you eaten? You can't get drunk on an empty stomach."

He laughed miserably and dragged a hand down his face. "Even when I'm a complete fucking prat, you're trying to take care of me. Fuck, I've never deserved you, have I?"

"We had a fight. You lied." He flinched. "But we're bound to have fights, Draco. It doesn't mean everything else is bad. It certainly doesn't mean you don't _deserve _me." Hermione stroked his hair, her anger quickly quelling once more.

"I swear it's not what you think, Hermione."

A sigh slipped past her lips. "It never is. This isn't the first time I've heard that, so I think you can understand why it doesn't do much to reassure me."

His hand found hers and Draco threaded their fingers together. "It was an arranged marriage. I've been trying to find a way to get out of it for months."

"Then you've had months to tell me." The wind rolled past them and she shivered. "Don't." Hermione moved away from her when he started to shrug his jacket off. "We're supposed to be partners and part of that means we don't keep things from one another. If you had told me, I would have understood, and I would have kicked that vile woman off my porch before she got the chance to ruin our Christmas."

He groaned.

"I don't understand how you were able to lie to me so easily. Every time we were together, you knew, and you left me to fall head over heels for you like some little idiot. Were you laughing at me the whole time? Was it funny to you?"

"Hermione, no—" Draco raised his head finally. His eyes were bloodshot and he was paler than usual. "I just— I was scared that I was going to lose you because of this. By the time I realised how much I cared about you and Scorpius, I was terrified you'd leave."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Choosing to lie to me for even longer wasn't the wisest idea you've ever had."

"I want you and Scorpius in my life. I've never lied about that, Hermione."

"I believe you."

Draco cupped her cheek. "Please don't cry. I never want to make you cry."

Hermione wanted to swat his hand away and claim that he had no right to comfort her, but he was the only one who could make her feel better. "This engagement... Is it over? Have you taken care of it?"

Grey eyes hardened. "It's been taken care of. Though, I expect it will have its own complications." Running his thumb over her knuckles, he sucked in a deep breath. "The arrangement is severed completely."

"What do you mean by complications?"

Tilting his head back with a harsh sigh, Draco glared at the stars. "My father."

She repeated what he'd said to herself, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Why?"

"Lucius is… He's going to be trouble."

Hermione knew she should have asked what _trouble_ implied exactly, but all she could focus on was how familiar the name sounded.

"Lucius." She tested the word and a slow ache returned to the forefront of her mind. "Lucius."

He stared at her, his eyes widening a fraction, and Draco whispered her name. He gripped her shoulders, and shook her. "Hermione—"

Her tongue slid against the seam of her lips. "Have we met before, Draco?" Pain exploded from behind her eyes, the sort of pain that eviscerated any thought she might have had, and her vision grew dark.

"Merlin's fucking—" Draco hissed.

There was darkness.

And then nothing.

* * *

**If you would like to scream at me, you can find me in fanfiction groups on FB, in my PM's on FFN, and on tumblr where you can submit anonymously to my askbox at mrsren96. I've legitimately never been more anxious to finish publishing a fic in my life. **

**Reviews are the best part of my day, even though this chapter may not be the best of yours...**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hi, friends! I'm sorry for the killer cliffhanger last week! Love to dreamsofdramione and mcal forever for all of their work on this story, especially now as it comes to a close.**

* * *

The next morning, Draco was beside her. She slid closer to him before her eyes flew open. Already awake, Draco was propped up on his elbow as he watched her sit straight up. "How are you feeling?"

She blinked. Hermione looked around the room and found herself in clothes she didn't remember wearing. "I don't know." She swallowed and took in his face once more. "What are you doing here? We didn't sleep together last night, did we?"

He laughed, but she couldn't find the humor in it. "No, we didn't. Actually, we talked last night on the porch."

"I don't remember." Bunching the sheets in her hands, Hermione tried to focus, but nothing came to her. "I would have told you to go away. I'm furious with you."

"Yeah. You did tell me to leave, but once you realised I was drunk and hadn't eaten anything, you sat down to talk to me. But you fainted in my arms, Hermione. You scared the hell out of me like nothing I've ever felt before. I was terrified."

From the sound of it, they'd had a conversation—and she could assume it had been a lengthy one—but she had no memory of it. None at all. "Did we talk about Astoria?"

"We did."

"Did I forgive you?"

Draco was still fully clothed and he reeked of alcohol. It seemed he'd slept on top of the blankets if he'd stayed in the bed at all. "I don't know. Even if you had, I wouldn't expect for you to still forgive me. But yes, we talked about it, and you allowed me to explain what happened. I groveled pretty dramatically while crying into your chest."

Her eyes widened. "I need to call my doctor to arrange an appointment and I need to go to work—"

"Hermione, no,"

"I'm going to work and you're not going to stop me," she barked. "I think I'd like to hear what you told me last night. But… maybe not while we're in bed."

He smirked. "I'd like that.

* * *

The bell over the shop door sounded and Hermione hastily made her way to the front while sliding her pen into her hair. "Hello, how can I help you today?"

At first glance, Hermione would have described the woman as having pinched features, but a second later, she watched her demeanor soften. "Miss Granger?" she asked, holding out her hand.

Not one to appear impolite, Hermione shook it. "Yes, but you can call me Hermione if you prefer. How can I help you, miss?"

"I came to meet you." The woman adjusted her cloak as she smiled. The curve of her painted lips didn't quite fit her face. "Pardon me, I should introduce myself. I'm Narcissa Malfoy."

"Narcissa," Hermione echoed. "It's lovely to meet you. I'm sorry I'm absolutely filthy. There's so much dust in the back."

The door chimed again, but this time it _was_ Draco coming to meet her for lunch. He froze in place, his eyes hardening as he took in the scene before him and his fingers curled around the edge of the door. "Mother, what a surprise."

Hermione wiped her clammy hands on her jeans. "Um, we were just about to go to lunch if you'd like to join us, Narcissa. There's a nice restaurant not far from her if they'll let us in."

Draco didn't smirk or chuckle at her subtle mention of Adam.

"I'd enjoy that very much, Hermione. Would you mind if I spoke with my son first?"

She shook her head. "I'll, um, be in the back." After escaping around the corner to tuck herself out of sight, a weight settled on her chest.

Hermione had met Narcissa Malfoy before.

She wasn't sure how, or why, but she fought to keep that realisation close to her chest even though it didn't seem to make any sense at all.

* * *

Dodging his mother had been no easy task. Draco had been shocked to see her, his stomach dropping all the way to his feet, but he'd quickly collected himself. When Hermione ducked around the corner, his mother had followed him outside the shop and down the street a little ways where no one could overhear them. The conversation had been short, but at least it had derailed any plan of going to bloody _lunch_.

Gently steering his mother by the arm, Draco endeavoured not to grimace. He failed.

"Draco." She patted his hand. "There's no need to be alarmed."

"No—" Draco shook his head, the singular word coming out choked. "No worry? Do you even hear yourself, Mother? What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd quite like to meet my grandson since you've never given me the chance."

_Fucking bollocks._

He surveyed the area around them to calm his already frayed nerves. Granger was nowhere in sight. "I didn't know Scorpius existed until September. I didn't even know Granger was alive until the exact same moment, and well, once I found out, I certainly had no intention of telling you."

The way her face crumbled was slight, but he caught it. "I see." She clasped her hands. "You don't trust your own mother, is that it? Well, I suppose that's all that needs to be said."

"You've been trying to marry me off since I left." Draco slid his hands into his pockets and arched a pale brow. "Fuck, you've been trying to marry me off since I became an Auror and suddenly the Malfoy name wasn't so heinous anymore."

Quicker than he could follow, Narcissa gripped his chin and forced him to look at her. "I would have terminated the engagement if I had known. I am _not _your father. You know I value your happiness over anything else. The Granger girl—_Hermione_—" She cleared her throat. "You were with her during the war. Your father and I knew, of course."

Narrowing his eyes, he faltered. "You never told me that you knew."

Narcissa released his chin, her face softening. "You didn't want to tell me. By the time I could have told you the truth, she was gone, and I worried I would be pouring salt in your wounds."

His mind whirred, all of his thoughts coming together as she dangled a new piece of information in front of him. "Lucius knew?" All this time, and…

Mother nodded. "Draco, I can't assume what's going on here, but from our short interaction, I know that woman has absolutely no idea who I am. If she did, she'd have recoiled in fear. She might have thrown up on my shoes if she remembered Malfoy Manor."

He didn't need to be reminded. Images cut across his mind of Granger writhing on the floor and screaming, Granger coming back to the safe house, still broken and bleeding.

He wished it had been him to cast that spell instead of Molly Weasley.

"However," she continued. "I came for two reasons: to meet my grandson and to tell you something. If I'd known she was alive, I would have told you, but—" She looked at her feet and Draco realized he had never seen his mother stare at the ground.

She'd always kept her head up. It was what he'd been taught as well.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he asked, "What would you have told me, Mother?"

"Bellatrix knew about the two of you. She never mentioned it to me, but she made remarks that left no question about it."

"Do you know who would have helped her? Someone has been coming here for years to cast glamours on Granger's arm—on that scar—so she won't remember. It's a curse that activates if she starts to remember anything."

Narcissa nodded. "Has anything triggered her memories?"

"A few things." Draco's voice cracked. "Scorpius had a bout of accidental magic and I thought I was going to lose her. I can't lose her again."

Wrapping her arms around his middle, she pulled him into a tight hug. "Then we'll make sure you don't. If it's Hermione Granger that kept you alive during the war, then I owe that woman a great deal."

* * *

Scorpius was with Clara, which meant she had no excuse not to swallow her pride. Hermione picked at the chipping paint of her mug. She needed to go to Draco. They'd spent a healthy amount of time discussing the fallout of Christmas. It hadn't been so easy to sit there while he bared himself, while he admitted that he'd been lying nearly since he'd arrived. It wasn't easy to accept that the day he'd left a note saying there was a _family emergency_—which was ordinary enough to be believable—he'd been listening to his parents inform him of an arranged marriage.

_God_, who forced their adult son into an arranged marriage anyway? It was barbaric.

"Okay," Hermione grumbled, curling her fingers around the edge of the counter. "You're delaying the inevitable. Adults communicate." Her pep talk in the middle of her kitchen did nothing to spur her forward.

But she missed him.

It was impossible to realise how much she'd looked forward to waking up beside him until he was gone, even if it _had_ only been a week.

Hermione grabbed her coat before she could change her mind, tugging her knit beanie over her head. The door locked behind her. The cold snap bit her cheeks and she wrapped her arms around herself while hurrying down the street. It was only a short distance, but her steps slowed as her anxiousness increased.

She knocked on his door twice and only had to wait a second before he opened it. Draco looked her over, his shoulders relaxing.

"I think we should talk."

He allowed the door to swing open. "We've been here before, haven't we?" Draco took her coat. "I'm sorry."

Rubbing her hands together, Hermione shook her head. "It's okay. Really, we discussed most of it yesterday and I'm not angry. I was hoping you would just reassure me a bit. It was a lot to take in at once and trusting you is easy. So easy that it terrifies me because you lied to me and I never had any idea."

"I'll never lie to you again."

Blinking, Hermione bit her lip. "Yes, but that's what you would have said to me when this started. It wasn't a small lie either. Yet here I am, ready to trust you again because I can't stand to see myself without you now."

His feet carried him forwards and Draco closed the distance. "Can I tell you something?"

"There aren't any other secret fiances, are there?" She laughed. "Okay, too soon for jokes."

He cracked a smile then. Draco ran his knuckle over her cheek. "I did make that joke about catching the stove on fire, so that's probably fair."

"I forgive you." Hermione slid her fingers through his belt loops and pulled him close. "I'm not sure whether that makes me naive, but I always knew I would forgive you."

"Even when Astoria was on your porch?"

She huffed. "Yes, even then. Her name makes me irrationally angry. I'm not a violent person, but…"

He snorted.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Nothing at all."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Back to what I originally came over here to say, Scorpius misses you, and I know that you miss him." Her fingers slid under his shirt without a conscious thought. "I need you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"You're a father now. We're doing this, and there can't be secrets like this. It will destroy us. It'll destroy _him_. Is there anything else I need to know?"

Draco didn't hesitate. "There's nothing."

"Promise?"

He tilted her head up, his lips centimeters from hers. "I promise."

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy was an intense woman, and if her husband was worse than her—which Draco had led Hermione to believe—she wasn't sure she ever wanted to meet the counterpart. In fact, dread coiled in her stomach as she kept her thoughts to herself in the following days. It was such a familiar name: _Lucius_, but she couldn't remember where she'd heard it.

Hermione's relationship with Draco improved quickly over the span of a few days. She was eager to be able to wake up beside him again.

The topic of dinner with his mother made her stomach turn. When it had come up, there hadn't been a feasible reason not to invite Narcissa, and Hermione sat through an hour long dinner while battling her internal debate. Scorpius liked her, even if he was also hesitant at first to greet her. Just like normal, it wasn't long before Scorpius had his newfound grandmother wrapped around his finger.

Their night took a sharp turn as they saw Narcissa out, and Hermione thanked her for coming.

Clara made her way up the walkway, a dish in her hand, and she froze as she took in the woman on the porch. "Cissy, how lovely to see you."

Hermione watched in bewilderment as the colour drained from Narcissa's face. "Miss Prewett, how unexpected to see you in France. You must know Hermione."

"Yes," Hermione interjected. "Clara has always watched Scorpius while I worked. She's a close friend. Did you say Prewett?"

Clara's wrinkles deepened. "It's my maiden name. I prefer not to go by it because it brings up so many distasteful _memories. _I'm sure it can't be too surprising that I'm here. If you're aiming to not bring up the topic of my family, it's more insulting to vaguely hint at it, my dear."

Hermione wasn't sure what to make of the scene in front of her and looked to Draco. He shook his head.

Clara pressed the dish into Hermione's hands and pecked her cheek. "You be careful, dear."

As the woman left, Narcissa explained that Clara had been a family friend to the Blacks—she'd whispered the name, but Hermione had heard it. She'd known Clara when they were children.

Her fingers gripped the dish tightly and Hermione excused herself.

She vomited in the loo, and her head pounded, but her thoughts didn't vanish.

Who was to say if that was a good thing?

* * *

"It will be okay, won't it? I've never allowed anyone but Clara or you to take him." Hermione bit her nail, her eyes sweeping from side to side. "I don't mean to sound rude. She's your mother. I've just never—"

He kissed her forehead. "It will be fine. Mother will look after Scorpius at my house so he'll still be in a comfortable place, and they'll be right there if they need anything. Which they won't." Draco rubbed her arms until his hands were on her shoulders. "She just wants to give us a day to spend together and I'm sure she'd like to spend time with him alone. If you don't want to, then we won't."

It was tempting to take the out, but she shook her head. "No, it's fine. Scorpius is already curious about her. He'll have a good time."

Draco squeezed her shoulder. "Perfect. I'm going to go get them settled, alright?"

Watching him go, she knew she ought to tell him. Hermione had been on the verge for days, but pushed the thought away while she gathered movies to watch. Draco had agreed, during a post-coital haze the night before, to watch all the movies _she _wanted. Strangely enough, when she'd told him she was only teasing and he could pick films to watch as well, Draco murmured that he didn't know any movies.

"_You've never seen a film? That's not possible."_

He'd distracted her by sliding his hand between her thighs.

The door creaked open, signaling his return, and she met him at the sofa with a bowl full of popcorn. "You're sure you don't have anything you'd like to watch?"

"Anything you choose is fine." He stretched his arm around her, resting it on the back of the sofa.

Hermione tucked her legs under her, popping food into her mouth as she leaned into him. "Will you press play?"

His brows knitted together. "Pardon?"

"Can you press play? I don't want to get up to start the movie." Hermione spoke around a mouthful of popcorn, giggling. "Please?" Maybe he hadn't been lying when he said he'd never watched a film given the way he fumbled with the telly. She watched with muffled amusement. "No, it's the other button. The other, _other _button."

He pressed eject. "Fuck!"

The decorative pillow she held against her mouth did nothing to hide her roaring laughter. "I can't wait to tell Scorpius about this."

Draco glared at her from where he crouched on the floor. "Planning to make fun of me, are you?"

"Of course I am." She felt the teasing curve of her lips. "Maybe films aren't the best way to spend the day."

Still yanking on cords that weren't going to solve his problems, Draco asked, "What would you suggest then?"

She crossed her legs and hugged the pillow. "Tell me about your mum. Don't give me that look. She's going to be in our lives now, isn't she? I should know more about her, and maybe… maybe more about your father as well."

_He's going to be trouble, Hermione._

Unable to recall just where that memory had come from, Hermione plastered a smile on her face to ignore the familiar ache that bloomed.

"I don't think talking about my father is such a good idea." Draco scratched the back of his neck and his tone left no room for argument.

She wasn't the sort of woman who was going to take that as a response. "No, I think we should talk about Lucius and why he's going to be trouble." As annoying as it was to experience yet _another _lapse in memory, she knew he'd told her that.

Even if she didn't know when.

His head snapped up. "What did you just say?"

"You told me he was going to cause trouble. I'm not sure what that entails, but it sounds—"

"Hermione, I told you that the night you fainted." Draco gritted his teeth. "He's just a fucking arsehole. I don't know what else to tell you, honestly, but I don't trust him. I don't want him around you. I definitely don't want him anywhere near our son."

Air rushed from her lungs before she drew in a long breath. "I don't understand." The words formed slowly on her tongue. "Did he hurt you?"

Draco opened his mouth and closed it. "It was a long time ago."

Fabric snagged on her nail. "What did he _do_?" Her blood was boiling.

"It's—I can't talk about it. I'm not saying I won't, but please not right now." Draco's eyes pleaded with her, and she wanted to let it go.

It felt like a string that had been pulled tight suddenly snapped. She didn't mean to question him over such a sensitive subject and Hermione knew how terrible it was to do so, but the words were out there before she could stop them. "Who is Lucius Malfoy? Would he hurt me? Scorpius?"

Previously hot, her blood turned to ice in her veins as she watched him nod. "I don't know, but it's not a risk I'm willing to take. Arranging a marriage is not where our family dysfunction began. It's not even where it ended, and it's certainly not the worst thing to ever happen to me."

Hermione wasn't a violent person. She'd never been violent, but she swore she'd rip the man apart if he ever stood in front of her.

"The scar on your chest. You promised me once to tell me about it. You told me it was Harry. That it was an accident. Was it your father?"

"No, _no_. Fuck." He dragged his hands down his face. "Will you trust me?"

"I do trust you. Do you trust me?"

"Are you really asking me that? Everything I've ever done—"

"What do you mean everything you've ever done? You sound like you've known me for years, Draco, and I don't—" Hermione cut herself off, her lips parting as she slumped backward. "You know me?"

Draco stared at her, unmoving. "Does your head hurt?"

Hermione swallowed and found her mouth was already dry. "You've always known me."

"I've always loved you, too."

Tears formed in her eyes. "You're Scorpius' father, aren't you?"

"Granger—"

She wiped her face. "Why do you call me that?"

He chuckled. It sounded fucking miserable. "We always called each other by our surnames. We never got along in school. We always bickered. We fucking fought like mad when it got going. Potter thought we'd tear the house down sometimes, but fuck, there is nothing I've ever loved more than making up with you."

She stood, her legs shaking as she walked towards him. His hands found her hips as she crouched in front of him and Hermione got the overwhelming sense that they had been here before. "Did you leave me?"

"Never."

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, and she flinched when he wiped them away, his thumb sliding in an arc across her skin. "Why didn't you find me sooner then?"

Draco leaned his forehead to hers, and cradled her face. "I thought you were dead." His breath hitched. "I didn't know you were pregnant, but I have never, _never_ stopped searching for you. Everyone told me you were gone but I never gave up on you."

"It's a lot to take in."

"I know." He slid his fingers through the spaces between hers. "Hermione, even if you forget, I'll still be here. I want you to know that. I'm _always _going to be here."

Hermione whimpered and tightened her grip on his hand. "Always? Sounds like rotten work."

"Not to me." Draco kissed her temple. "Not if it's you."

* * *

**The chapter count for The Best of Me has been bumped to twenty-one. I am flattered and guilty to have received the title of The Cliffhanger Queen, but I do think this one is more mild than the others. Lol. The chapter was cut because it would have been too many plot points put together at once, and in the effort to improve my storytelling...it had to be done. That being said, I really do feel that I have put you guys through the ringer with this story, and you've stuck with me so well that there is going to be an extra update on Friday. And then the regular weekly updates on Tuesday through the end of March. **

**Contact me on tumblr at mrsren96, facebook at Kelsey Ren, or PM me on here! In other news...I started working on two dramione multichapters today. **

**See ya in a couple days, friends. Thanks for sticking it out. We're in the endgame now. (- been waiting to use that)**


	18. Chapter 18

**It's Friday. Here we are. Thank you a million for sticking with me for this. Sorry for the short chapter, but I promise it's packed!**

* * *

Watching him go hadn't been an easy feat, but Hermione insisted that he stay the night at home so his mother wasn't alone. After tucking Scorpius into bed, and listening to all the stories he had to tell about Narcissa, Hermione crawled into bed herself.

Her thoughts were lousy company.

Did Narcissa recognise her? Had she known about the relationship between Hermione and her son? More importantly, had she approved? Though when Hermione stopped to ask herself whether it mattered if the woman cared, she realised that it didn't.

Draco had told her he loved her. As far as declarations of love went, it had been one that made her so dizzy she could barely think of it. The truth had been in front of her the entire time. He'd always felt so familiar and now she supposed she knew why.

Rolling onto her side, Hermione laid her palm across the space where Draco typically laid. She was asleep before she could wonder if she'd forget everything again by the morning.

* * *

_Footsteps pounded behind her._

_Bits of the castle crumbled around her until suddenly it wasn't only small pieces of stone chipping away. Large chunks of the walls began to splinter as spell after spell cracked against them, weakening the structure that was supposed to hold._

_It had held for a thousand years._

_It was supposed to hold._

_Fingers curled in her jumper, and as Draco ripped her backwards, the wall gave way. "You're going to put me in an early grave," he hissed. "If no one else does first."_

_She wanted to tell him that his cynicism wasn't appreciated at the moment but there wasn't time. They stood at the edge of the courtyard and Hermione gripped his forearm. "Oh, God…"_

_Draco started to ask what was wrong, but he saw it just as she did._

_Freezing in the middle of a battle wasn't an option, but there, cradled in Hagrid's arms, was her best friend. Harry's body was lifeless._

_Draco tugged her back against him. "We have to go."_

"_What?"_

_A crowd had gathered. She recognised the dirt streaked faces of her classmates._

_She watched them give up hope._

"_I've always told you I was going to keep you safe, Hermione." Draco only said her name in certain situations. She turned to face him. "I care about this war, make no mistake about that, but I care about you so much more."_

"_I'm fighting for—"_

"_We're losing! And I'm not going to lose you in the process, too." He fumbled with his pockets. "Please, I have a way out."_

_A distinct cackle filtered through the crowd. It wasn't time. "You have to trust Harry."_

"_He's dead!" Draco snapped. His face drained of colour and his voice came back to him as an echo. "I have a portkey. Let me get you out."_

_They could be a proper family if she said yes. Hermione glanced around them. Would their child live if she said no?_

_Merlin, Draco didn't even know. She thought for sure that she would vomit then._

_A proper family like she'd dreamed of if they ever got out of the war alive._

_Her lips framed the words._

"_I can't," Hermione whispered. "You know I can't."_

_He'd expected it. Draco knew her._

_He liked to say that he'd always known her—even though it wasn't possible._

"_After this..." Hermione made use of the spare moments as the crowd erupted into screams. "We'll make a proper go of it. You'll see."_

_Draco's fingers flexed around his wand. "I'm going to hold you to that, Granger."_

_Bellatrix screamed the same slur carved into her arm. Hermione found her in the crowd, her hair matted as she raised her wand and continued to scream. It was an incantation, one that Hermione had never heard before, but her wand was pointed directly at Hermione from across the courtyard._

_Her husband was at her side, his mouth curved into a sneer, his finger skimming Bellatrix's sides._

_Hermione reached for Draco with her free hand as she cast Protego, but her shield splintered._

_He screamed for her—her name over and over and over again—as a thick purple mist enveloped her._

_Spinning wildly out of control as the sound of the final battle dropped out from under her, Hermione landed in a clearing with a vicious snap to her bones._

_Alone._

_She was alone._

_And she couldn't remember who had been screaming for her_

* * *

A gasp tore free from her throat as she sat up, hunched over with the sheets pooled around her waist. Her eyes jerked to the door to make sure Scorpius hadn't woken. Had she been screaming? Her throat was raw.

Seconds ticked by and he didn't come to the door.

Her fingers trembled. She raised her hands to get a better look at them with the moonlight trickling in.

Tiny scars appeared on her knuckles first. They were from when they went on the run and she'd used her father's pocket knife to cut smaller branches in the Forest of Dean. Ron had given her shite then for how often she nicked her fingers. They dotted her knuckles—though, in truth, there weren't many marks. There was a slice from where Crookshanks had gotten her the first year she'd owned him.

_Crooks!_

Hermione slung her legs over the side of the bed and rushed out of the room. She sprinted down the stairs while trying to keep her footfalls quiet so Scorpius wouldn't grow curious.

"Crooks." She felt her way through the sitting room, taking care not to bang her leg against the coffee table. Hermione found her familiar in the windowsill, curled up with his cheek pressed to the glass. "You've always been here, haven't you?" She stroked the top of his head and he meowed. "You knew who Draco was all along, didn't you? Smart little guy."

She stepped back from the window, taking a long look around her home.

It felt like it belonged to someone else.

Pain sliced through her chest and she stumbled, ultimately falling to one knee. Feeling her chest through her thin top, she scrambled to pull it away from her.

It was horrifying to watch old scars form.

Remembering the Department of Mysteries wasn't terribly hard as she watched a deep purple gash crawl across her skin, just as wicked as she remembered.

"Bloody hell." Hermione panted. It emblazoned itself into her skin as if it had never left. It had been a heavily cast glamour. Dark magic, she suspected and she was sure she'd find the rest of her answers—or most of them, hopefully—with Draco.

She whispered his name to herself, ignoring the way the carpet burned as it slid against her knees.

She had so many questions and it was so overwhelming that she thought she might be sick. It wouldn't do her any good to vomit on her carpet. Help. She needed help.

Why had she insisted he go home _tonight_ of all nights?

Her blood ran hot.

She bit down hard on her bottom lip to tamper a scream. "Fuck." Hermione rocked back on her haunches before lurching forwards in a full body spasm. With her forehead flush against the carpet, she dry heaved. Eventually, she sat upright and held up her arm, confirming her suspicions.

There was that ugly word again. It seemed she'd never be able to rid herself of it.

It was a cursed scar, but it seemed that regaining her memories had caused it to reopen. Blood rolled away from the crudely drawn letters as the floor swayed under her feet. Forcing herself to stand, Hermione clutched her arm.

Scarlet dripped to the carpet.

She watched the staircase as she slipped out the door, and let it close with a faint click behind her. Hermione shook as she hurried, each footstep more clumsy than the last. Heavily breathing, she banged on Draco's front door without consideration for the fact that it was nearly four in the morning.

It swung open.

Narcissa stood there and her eyes dropped to her arm. "Miss Granger?"

She'd deal with Draco's mother later. That was a conversation for another time.

"I'm bleeding out." Hermione's legs gave way, but the woman caught her.

Arms locked around her. "Draco!"

He burst into the room and cursed. "Hermione, what—"

She held up her arm, slumping into Narcissa's chest. "Voldemort," she whispered. "Bellatrix."

Draco barked for his mother to help her onto the sofa, and then told her where the potions were. "Hey." He pushed her hair back from her forehead. "You're going to be alright."

The corner of her lip twitched. "Because you're going to take care of me?"

"Just focus on staying awake right now, alright? I have blood replenishment potions and—"

"Scorpius is alone. Someone needs to be there with him in case he wakes up. There's blood in the living room."

Draco summoned his wand. _Expecto Patronum._ An otter sprung from the end of his wand, and she tried to sit up but he stopped her. "_Clara, Hermione's regained her memories. Scorpius is alone. Please go."_

Clara was a witch. It all made sense. Had she held any memory of magic before, Hermione imagined she would have pieced that together.

She wheezed. "Please send your mother away. I want—" Hermione coughed into her hand and it came away red. "Just us, please?"

He nodded. When she returned, Narcissa respected the request.

"Are you angry with me?" Draco asked.

Hermione found his hand as he tipped her head up and fed her a potion. "I'm furious, but not with you. What could you have done? I would have never believed you."

Faltering, Draco looked down at her. "Hermione, if I had told you, it would have killed you. This was a curse."

Of course. She swallowed a pain potion.

And another blood replenishment potion to match.

Chills rolled over her body and the hair on her arms stood on end. He told her she was in shock, but she already knew that.

"I have a question." The words rolled right off her tongue as he dabbed her forehead with a damp rag. "When you came here, and you loved me again, were you here for who I am, or who I've been?"

Honestly, they were all the same. Even to her, even now, as she tried to take things apart and put them back together, it all felt the same.

"I'm here because you've always been the best part of me." He dropped a kiss to her forehead. "Any other questions?"

She blinked. "Do you know who did this to me? Was Bella the only one?"

"She had help. I don't know who it was yet."

Hermione swallowed, lacing their fingers together. "We're going to find them."

"We are."

* * *

**I hope the pay off was worth the wait! Let me know what you think. I'll update Tuesday! **

**Fun fact, the title of this story came from the country song by Luke Combs, She Got The Best Of Me. **

**Talk to me here or on tumblr at mrsren96! **


	19. Chapter 19

**I apologize for the delayed update, but the world is a little crazy right now. Love to dreamsofdramione and mcal. Please read the warning below before heading into the chapter. **

**Small warning. There is a very brief moment of violence _toward a child_ in this chapter. It's not very long, but I am placing a warning for it here all the same. **

* * *

The wound sealed, but she already knew it would never go away. Hermione held her arm up to the light, tilting it slowly as she took in the sight of it. Each letter had scabbed over, but she knew it would take time to heal the cursed word. Magic could only help so much.

The first time around it hadn't caused her to nearly bleed out. Draco theorised it was due to the glamour that had been cast on her for so long and she agreed. Hermione wished that she could remember who it had been, even if it was only a vague silhouette, but nothing came to her. Still, a witch or wizard had come into the home she shared with her son and continued to systematically take everything from her.

In the hours that stretched through the night, Draco whispered apologies over and over again. He told her that all this time, he'd wished it had been him to curse Bellatrix instead of Molly Weasley. Hermione slid her arms around his neck and hugged him close.

She was glad he'd never gotten the chance. There was no question of his ability to do it, she knew that, and he would have possibly spent time in Azkaban instead of ultimately finding her.

She squeezed over to make room for him and they laid side by side on the couch. He told her about his career as an Auror, his flat with Harry, and then how he'd looked for her everywhere. "In every city," Draco ran his fingers over her forearm while meeting her eyes. "Potter enabled me at first. He wanted to find you alive as much as I did, but time went on, and he eventually told me I was only hurting myself."

"You were." Hermione snuggled closer to him, careful not to reopen the wound so quickly after unwrapping it. "But I'm thankful for that, even though it must have caused you so much suffering. I always thought your behavior was strange when you first met me, but now it makes sense."

"You told me you weren't brave."

Hermione snorted. "That's all you took out of that meeting?"

"I vomited all over Potter's shoes in the forest when we left. It took everything in me not to rush back to you, but the healer had already told us how dangerous it would be to tell you anything."

She brushed strands of hair from his forehead. "But you came back for us."

"There was never a question whether I would."

Early morning light trickled into the room. Scorpius would still be asleep, but he would wake soon, and they would have to confront all that had happened together. "Tell me about being an Auror. What made you choose to sign up?"

His lips curved into a pretty smile that she'd missed so much. "Lucius wanted me to start paving a way through politics to reclaim our previous friendships, but I knew that wasn't an option for me. Potter and Weasley had already made up their mind to skip another year of Hogwarts by enlisting in the Aurors, and I knew that I wasn't strong enough to go back to Hogwarts."

"Where I'd disappeared."

"Yes, exactly. I'd never wanted to become an Auror, but I suppose, as a child, I didn't have much time—or opportunity—to imagine being anything _I _wanted to be. I followed those two instead. Not to mention, training lasts three years, so it left my father very little time to harass me. Not that he didn't try."

Hermione sniggered. "You and Ron, are you…?"

"We're friends." Draco nodded. "Don't ever tell him I said that because he'll never let me live it down. I let him think I only tentatively tolerate him."

"Ah, so it's just like I expected. Do you like it?"

"Being friends with Weasley? Not always."

Hermione barked a laugh, and her fingers tightened in his jumper. "No, I meant being an Auror."

He'd known that. Draco had just wanted to make her laugh and Hermione knew it, too. "Yes, I love it. Now that I've done it, I can't imagine doing anything else."

A weight settled on her chest and she sighed. "I should have told you I was pregnant."

Draco stiffened. "At the moment, I'm not sure I have the moral ground to accuse you of anything."

"Don't be ridiculous. If you'd told me anything, I probably would have lost my mind. It's hard to be angry with you for that. This is different, and you _are _allowed to be angry."

Raking his fingers through his hair, Draco shook his head. "It's years too late to be angry. Even when I realised you'd had my son, I wasn't angry. I have to admit though, I don't understand it."

"Well, when a mummy and daddy love each other very much—" Hermione squealed when his fingers brushed her sides.

"I don't need the _talk_, Granger."

"Maybe a demonstration then?" She sounded breathless and couldn't quite believe it was her voice. "Sorry, this is meant to be a serious conversation."

Draco twisted a matted curl around his finger. "On the contrary, it's nice to know that you still can't keep your hands to yourself."

He certainly wasn't wrong. "I was pregnant when I was in Malfoy Manor, when she carved into me like an animal."

His reaction was what she expected. Draco's breathing hitched, and his eyes widened as quickly as they grew dark. "What?"

That terrible laugh still rattled in her mind.

"You _knew _when you left, when you broke into Gringotts?"

She nodded.

"Sweet mother of fuck, what were you thinking?"

Pulling herself up, Hermione sat cross legged and stared back at him. As much as she needed to be skin to skin with him, she'd never admit everything if he was so close. "I didn't know what to think. My cycle was late. Ron and Harry were outside the tent when I performed the charm. I didn't tell either one of them. I knew if I did, none of you would ever let me out of a safehouse."

Draco looked so fucking _hurt_ that it broke her heart. "If you had trusted me, you wouldn't have been in that courtyard."

"Don't blame me for something Bellatrix did to us."

His lower lip wobbled, and it was so clear where Scorpius had inherited his mannerisms from. Only instead of it being due to tears, it was all anger. "If you had told me, you would have never been there. You wouldn't have been tortured, Hermione. I could have kept you _safe_!"

"I'm sorry I lied to you," Hermione whispered. She met his gaze, even as it cut her deeply. "But if I had to go back, I'd do everything the same. I fought for the world I wanted our son to live in, the one where you could love me. Was he robbed of that chance? Absolutely, but it doesn't make my own sacrifices void. You don't need to tell me how dangerous it was for me to be tortured while—" A choke wormed its way free and she dropped her head into her hands.

"Granger—" His anger wasn't _gone_, but it was simmering.

"I laid on that floor for what felt like hours, Draco. I wondered if it was going to kill him before he had a chance to live. My occlumency shields were strong. The reason she discovered the truth was because she dragged that knife over my stomach—and my shirt with it—and they splintered." Her fingers shook as she tightened her hands into fists.

"You don't have to relive this. I had no right—"

"Of course you have a right. I almost killed our son," Hermione spat. "If it weren't for Dobby, we would have both died. When I chose to lie to you—and God, the guilt ate me alive—I had no idea what would happen. I wanted to be at your side until the end. Whatever end it could have been."

He closed the gap between them by crawling forward.

She reached for him, running her thumb over his cheekbone. "I can't believe you're here."

Draco's lips met hers and she pulled him to hover over her. "We shouldn't do this. You're healing." Still, he allowed her to tug his shirt over his head. He reached for the shirt he'd loaned her, sliding his hands against her bare skin.

"Did you mean what you said?"

His stare flicked to hers. "What?"

"That you loved making up with me, did you mean it?" Hermione's stomach flipped as his features softened. "Draco—"

The front door slammed open and she shoved him off of her.

Draco landed on the floor with a painful thud and rubbed the back of his head. "Whoever it is, don't come in here!"

Hermione laughed lightly. "We can finish this later."

* * *

She wore long sleeves. The moment Scorpius was through the doorway, he rushed into her arms, and she crouched down to scoop him up. "Good morning."

"Are you okay?" Hermione wasn't surprised those were the first words out of his mouth. They sat on the floor, and he reached for her again, sliding his arms around her back. "Mum?"

"Did you brush your hair before you came over here?" Hermione sorted his hair.

He rolled his eyes. "No."

"Clearly."

"_Mum_."

"I had an accident last night, but I'm okay. I came straight to your father and he took care of me." The truth would come out eventually, and it would be easier for him to swallow if she hadn't lied from the start. "There's no easy way to say this, Scorp, but I remember everything now."

There was a blond blur of his hair as he launched into her arms and knocked her backward. Laughing, Hermione clutched him a little tighter. "Really?" he asked in a rush. "How?"

"It's a story for another time." She kissed his forehead.

Draco lingered at the edge of the room, his hands slid into his trouser pockets, and Narcissa stood behind him.

"Draco, would you mind taking him home and getting him dressed? Maybe brush his hair while you're there?"

Scorpius argued that his pyjamas were perfectly acceptable, and his bed head was _cute_, but Draco caught the message. The front door clicked shut, and Hermione watched them through the window until they were long out of ear shot.

She climbed to her feet, but didn't step forward. Hermione took in the sight of Narcissa, from her pumps to the lovely dress she wore that cinched at her waist. "Mrs Malfoy, what the fuck are you doing here?" Hermione rested her hip against the edge of the sofa. "I know it's been years since I've last seen you—and that was from afar—but you'll forgive me if I have my doubts about your intentions."

"I've known about your relationship with my son for some time. Bellatrix uncovered it while you were in Malfoy Manor, but it's evident that she kept some of the… details to herself."

"Seems so."

"Had I known about your, or your son, I would have terminated Draco's engagement immediately. Understandably, he didn't tell us." Narcissa tapped her fingers against her hand, and she swallowed. "I had nothing to do with your disappearance."

Hermione glared at her. "I'm sure you would have preferred it if I had stayed missing, given your views on blood superiority. Am I right?"

"It's difficult to break views that were ingrained from a young age, but I'm in the process of unlearning them."

She raised an eyebrow. "Did that process start when you learned I was alive or before?"

"There is little to no place for prejudice in the Wizarding World, Miss Granger. You incited a fair bout of change, as did all of those on the other side. It's a terrible crime that you weren't there to see it." Narcissa drew in a breath.

Hermione sighed. "I don't trust you currently, but I do know the person you care most about is your son. You would do anything for him and I can sympathise with that."

"While I may not know who assisted my sister, I do have my own suspicions. You're in danger now, Miss Granger. There's no doubt about that. Your face has been splashed across every paper in Wizarding Britain for the past week."

Her stomach hardened, and it was the first time she felt like herself. Realistically, her last _true_ memory was of the war, and it wasn't all that hard to slip back into her previous patterns. "You can call me Hermione. You're Scorpius' grandmother. He would find it strange if we spoke so formally."

"You may call me Narcissa then. It's my hope that one day we'll have a better relationship. If there's anything I can do…"

A smile curved on Hermione's lips. "Actually, there is one thing."

* * *

"I think you should come."

Hermione poured her tea, but didn't face him. "You've mentioned that a few times now, Draco. You're not going to change my mind."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Granger—"

"It's a media circus right now, and I don't want to put myself in the middle of it. Or Scorpius for that matter. For God's sake, we haven't even _told_ him yet."

"I don't know why we're putting it off. He's already experienced accidental magic. He's seen my bloody Patronus."

Hermione paused, her cup halfway to her mouth. "You did what?"

Panic fluttered across his face. "There's a lot to explain still."

"I'll say." She snorted. "You're not going to be long. It'll be over before you know it."

Draco rounded the island and towered over her. His eyes pleaded with her, but she'd already come to a decision. "You have to be there to sign the paperwork to void your death certificate."

It was all overwhelming. She'd kept it together so far, but it had only been thirty-six hours since the glamour had fallen away. While she remembered everything—and had spent nearly every waking moment analysing it in explicit detail—it was difficult to separate her previous life from the one she'd lived for the past six years.

"Please don't ask me again."

"Are you okay?"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. "I just wish everyone would stop asking me that. I'm having a hard time accepting everything. I know it's true, but it's all so confusing now."

While Scorpius played in the other room with Clara, Draco took one step to close the distance between them. "What's confusing?"

"Who I am." Hermione's voice dropped to a whisper. "My last memories of being a witch are of war. Now I'm a mum, and I can't reconcile the two people I've been."

He cupped her cheek, leaning his forehead to hers, and it was normal, even if only for a fleeting moment. "You don't have to choose one or the other. You're a brilliant witch _and _mum."

She nodded. "I know."

"And we don't have to do anything you don't want to do. In fact, we don't even have to live in England if you don't want to, but first, I need to find out who did this. You'll sign the paperwork whenever you're ready, and we'll go anywhere you want."

Hermione sniffled. "You're an Auror for the British Ministry."

"I can work anywhere."

"You love your job."

"No." He tilted her head up, his eyes bright. "I love you. I've gone to the end of the world and back for you. Nothing means more to me than you and our son."

"You're going to make me cry."

"I seem to do that a lot," he murmured. Dropping his head down, he pressed his lips to hers. "Is it at least a good cry this time?"

Her fingers curled into the front of his Auror uniform. "A _very _good cry." His lips slanted against hers. "Have I told you yet how fit you look in this uniform?"

Hermione could feel his smirk. "That's something I could work with."

* * *

Harry sent photo albums.

She sat down with them in the hours after Draco took a portkey, and Scorpius begged to go with him. "I'll be back in a few days," Draco had promised.

"What's that?" Scorpius climbed onto the bed with her. He hadn't left her side since they'd come home and Crooks followed them everywhere. "Mum?"

She was still searching for the right way to tell him the truth about magic, herself, and the fact that Draco was truly his father in every way. "An old friend sent photographs for me to look through. Would you like to see them?"

Scorpius bobbed his head and snuggled into her side. He ducked his head under her arm and Crooks curled up in his lap. "Is that you?" He pointed to a petite witch with unruly hair.

"It is. I was just a little older than you when this was taken. I was eleven." Hermione knew that there had been no photographs taken in Hogwarts. She would have figured it out for herself, but Harry had mentioned in his letter that he'd spent months sifting through his memories with an attending healer so they could be copied into the book he'd sent. And once the news had broken, he'd done the same with Ron and anyone else who'd known her.

Luckily, he didn't ask where she'd gone to school. She imagined it wouldn't be long before it was time to explain fully, but Hermione wanted to have that conversation with Draco by her side.

"This is Harry and this one is Ron." Hermione pointed them out, tilting the book for him to see. "They're my best friends."

"Why didn't they come?"

"They had their reasons." Hermione smiled. "I know it doesn't make sense right now."

"Is that Crooks?" Scorpius pointed. Sure enough, there he was, sitting at her feet in the Gryffindor common room. "How did he find us?"

Hermione's eyes watered. "Maybe it was magic."

Well, there was a legitimate answer to the question and she intended to find out.

Scorpius' eyes widened. "Magic," he repeated. "Is magic real?" The tiniest bit of fear wormed its way onto his face. "That's just a story."

Her lips quirked up into a smirk. "The stories are real and I'll tell you all about them."

"Mum, Draco can… Can you do what Draco can?" Little fingers gripped her arm.

"I can do it better. Just let me get a wand first."

It wasn't exactly the way she'd intended to broach the subject, but he didn't ask anything else. Scorpius seemed to realise the world was so much bigger than he'd ever known

* * *

In the living room, Scorpius laid on the floor with one of the albums flipped open in front of him. Hermione could see him from the kitchen as he flipped the page. In the three days since Draco had returned to the Ministry, Scorpius had constantly poured over images of memories that felt like they didn't truly belong to her.

She hadn't returned to work. Hermione didn't imagine she would ever return to the quiet bookshop where she'd shared most of her days with Victoire. She knew that eventually she would want to return with Draco, even if she hadn't told him. Their son would get his letter, and she couldn't entertain the thought of sending him to any school other than Hogwarts.

Certainly not Durmstrang.

It would be something to discuss with Draco when he returned tomorrow.

"Mum, did you go to school with Dad?"

Hermione cursed under her breath, but as she started to admit that yes, she had, her blood ran cold. She glanced around, her hand inching toward the knife block. "Scorpius, get in here now." She rushed from the kitchen before he'd even been able to climb to his feet.

"Mum?" His eyes dropped to the large knife in her hand. "What's going on?"

The wards shifted, and she looked to the windows as if she were going to see someone. "Stay behind me." They dropped completely and Hermione could feel them as they fell away. She'd always felt it, but due to the curse, she'd never been able to recognise them for what they were.

Until now.

Two men entered through the front door, and her fingers tightened around the handle. Quicker than she could follow, one Apparated behind her, and locked his arms around her.

She struggled.

She managed to cut his forearms, but he struck her across the face, and the knife tumbled from her grip.

Hot air fanned over her neck as he twisted her wrist, and threw her to the floor.

The back of her skull cracked on impact.

His partner grabbed Scorpius by his hair, threading his fingers through the strands as he ripped him upward.

Hermione drove her fist between his ribs and brought her knee up swiftly so it landed against his groin. "Stay away from my son. I'll fucking kill you," she growled and spit in his face.

"_Confundus." _A hand caressed the side of her face.

Scorpius screamed for her, but she couldn't move.

She needed to _move_, but he'd petrified her.

Hermione knew to be scared. She didn't have a wand, and even if she did, she wasn't sure magic would come so easily to her yet.

"Don't worry about him." The man holding Scorpius laughed. "He'll be with family. They're kind enough to take in a halfblood. Even with a muggleborn mother."

Scorpius' scream split the air. As confused as she was, Hermione watched books fly off the shelves. They pelted the man hovering over her, and his weight disappeared as two cracks signalled their escape.

"Scorpius?"

He dropped to his knees beside her, sobbing openly as he buried his face in her chest. "Mummy. They'll come back."

A vicious crack vibrated the air, and she felt the floorboards below her move with the rest of the foundation. "Daddy, please, you have to _help_."

Arms slid under her back and she could just make out the shape of him as his head blocked out the light over them.

"Did you Apparate from England?" she wheezed.

Voices filled the air. "Who are they?" Scorpius whispered.

"The cavalry," Draco muttered.

* * *

**These really, truly, aren't really cliff hangers to me, but I feel you may see it differently. Thank you for being so patient with me! Just a few more chapters, and a tiny reminder that this story was always about Draco and Hermione falling in love, and regaining memories, not an action packed story of finding who hurt them. (Though it is a bit of both.) **

**Let me know what you thought here, or in a message, or on tumblr at mrsren96!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Please read this note! Shorter chapter this time, but there is a reason. This chapter does not have a cliff hanger. It originally did have one, however, and I've left part of that in the end notes so you have the option to see it if you'd like. I thought it was worth giving a bit of breathing room with everything I've put you through. Lol. **

**One more chapter, much longer than this one, and I'll upload it as soon as it's ready! Love to dreamsofdramione and mcal for all they've done for this project. **

* * *

Draco's fingers slid around the nape of her neck—warm and solid—and he kissed her forehead. He pulled their son into a tight hug, whispering, "It's okay. It's okay."

With a murmured _finite, _Hermione's cloud of confusion cleared, but she couldn't pull herself off the floor. Scorpius hugged her again for good measure, and whispered, _"Mummy,"_ until she thought she might be sick. A floorboard near them creaked, and he whispered Clara's name.

"I think it says something that you got here before I did and you were in a different country at the time." Clara stood in the throng of people that had poured into her home, offering them a smile. "Would you like me to take Scorpius for a bit?"

_No, not particularly. _Hermione wanted to keep him wrapped in her arms where she knew he was safe, but she glanced at the wand in Clara's hand. "Just for a short while. Stay inside?"

"We'll just go upstairs for a minute. Scorpius?"

He hesitated. "I'll be right back."

Hermione kissed his temple. "Of course you will. Behave for her, and I'll be up when I can."

Clara tucked her wand into the sleeve of her dress, and offered her hand to Scorpius before they disappeared up the stairs.

Draco pulled her up and crushed her to his chest. "I've never been more terrified in my life."

"I don't want it to sound like I'm unhappy to see you because I'm very grateful to see you, but you shouldn't have Apparated from outside the country. It looks like the portkey would have only delayed you by a couple of minutes." Hermione hadn't looked around her yet. Her stomach turned over on itself.

If she looked around, she would probably see faces from photographs that she'd seen in the albums.

"You think I'm going to waste any time? Unlikely."

She could hear her heartbeat loudly in her ears, and she tightened her grip on his shirt. "Take me into the kitchen, please. I don't want to be around all these people. I can't breathe."

* * *

Hermione had a headache. By that point, it was nothing new to her. She spent several minutes insisting it was just a result of the blunt trauma, and _not_ because the curse was acting up again. That part was over. However, with it gone, it made way for a new slew of problems. Someone wanted to get rid of her, and that want was still just as valid as it had been in 1998.

"You're not safe here." Draco gripped the bottle of whisky she handed him by the neck. "We shouldn't be drinking."

She snatched it back from him and took a greedy swallow. "Please let me have something to dull my nerves. We'll take a potion before we see Scorpius." The Aurors had vacated her home, but it was still a fucking mess. Everything had been overturned in the sitting room when her attackers had stormed in. "I know I'm not safe here. That was clear when someone grabbed Scorpius."

She'd run him through the scenario multiple times, and each time, Draco managed to pull information out of her that Hermione hadn't thought to say before. "You're very good at talking to victims," she murmured.

"Don't call yourself that."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's true. I don't understand why they left without taking one of us. Could they have known you had been alerted already?"

He shrugged and took a long drink. "It's possible. Perhaps their employer has ties to the Ministry. Not only was I alerted, but Robards knew within an instant. He was prepared."

When she attempted to hop onto the counter, Draco slid his arm around her waist and lifted her. He rested in the cradle of her thighs as Hermione slid her finger across his lips.

"I hate that someone has made me feel threatened in my own home. I brought Scorpius home for the first time here. He took his first steps here. He said his first words here, and now someone has taken our sense of safety from us."

Draco drained the last of the bottle and dumped it into the trash. "Live with me." He gripped her thighs as he rasped the word. "I know you don't want to come back to England right now, but at the very least, live with me. You're not safe here, and I realise it may feel too fast—"

She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled his closer. "Oh, Draco. I've loved you since I was eighteen. I've had your son." Hermione kissed him weakly. "If anything, we're just late in doing this too."

"Say it again."

"I love you," Hermione choked. "I never forgot, not really. You just had to remind me."

* * *

"Absolutely fucking not." they had just laid Scorpius down. It had taken quite a bit longer to get him to sleep, and Hermione worried Draco's volume would wake him. "I'm not going to do it."

She threw her hands up. Hermione turned away from him and made her way down the stairs.

He followed. "Do you hear yourself? It's too much of a risk."

Gnawing her lower lip, she counted to ten to find something she could say without regretting it later. "Is it worth risking them coming back? Make no mistake, someone will come for us again!" Hermione shouted.

Draco raised his wand and cast a silencing charm as her voice shot up. "I'll be here."

"That's not _enough_. You'll be called away again. That man dragged my son around by his hair. Scorpius watched as I was slammed into the bloody floor. He had a magical outburst on a scale that I've never even heard of before."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I'm not willing to risk losing you by performing Legilimency. It might cause a lapse—"

"The risk doesn't outweigh the reward." Hermione scowled.

Draco dragged his hand across his face. "I'd forgotten what it was like to argue with you. You're so fucking stubborn you won't even stop to listen to me."

There was a delicate clearing of someone's throat from the edge of the room. "Pardon me, I didn't know you were having a row when I arrived through the Floo." Narcissa's features were pinched. "Hermione, I've retrieved what you asked for." She glided across the floor and extended her hand.

His brows knitted together in confusion. "Mother?"

Hermione opened the box and drew her wand from the velvet lining. It reacted to her instantly with a low pulse. "Thank you, Narcissa. I appreciate this."

Narcissa nodded. "I'm only sorry I couldn't get it to you sooner. I heard what happened."

"They've already reported it to the masses then?" Hermione raised her wand and brought it down in a cutting arc.

Draco's eyes widened. It was slight, barely there, but she knew him as intimately as she knew herself.

"I'm afraid so." Narcissa kissed Draco's cheek. "I'm going to leave, and let you two resume your… bonding." He coughed and Narcissa swatted him on the back. "Careful, dear. You don't want to choke."

"Wait! Mother, perhaps you might be able to mediate this discussion?"

"Mmm, no." Narcissa laughed quietly. "Whatever this was about, I'm going to go ahead and agree with Hermione."

Hermione smirked. "Even your mother agrees with me."

"My mother doesn't even know what we're talking about."

Narcissa exited the room while their bickering resumed.

* * *

After their argument, Hermione didn't attempt to change his mind immediately. Eventually, it would have to be done, but first Draco would need to be convinced, and that was a task in itself.

It was tremendously bittersweet when she quit her job. It was flighty and not at all like her to resign over the phone but that it hadn't been possible for her to do so in person.

Scorpius enjoyed coming downstairs in the mornings to find Draco sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea in hand. They spent that private time together, and Hermione always crept around the corner to see them as the sun broke against the horizon. Scorpius asked questions about magic, about _her_, and Draco somehow always had the correct answers.

"Mum says she can do magic better than you can."

"She's right." Draco laughed, and there were barely there wrinkles at his eyes as he head tipped back. "Mum can kick my arse any day of the week."

"Better make sure you take out the garbage then."

Draco wheezed. "Yeah, you're right."

She reveled in those moments up until they made her sick again. Years of _this_ had been taken from them. Draco had been robbed of a series of firsts, and she hated that there was no way to get that time back.

Later he found her sitting in the middle of the bed. "Granger?"

Her locket was a barely there weight in her palm. "I took a photograph of us from the albums. Scorpius hasn't seen it since it's from the war. There's only a handful of those pictures, but I'm not ready for him to ask questions yet."

He joined her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "That's a good photo. Not as good as the one I have though."

"What do you mean?"

Draco reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Whenever Potter and I arrived in a new city on a mission, I would inevitably show this photo to anyone that would talk to me. I showed it to an innkeeper not far from here when I first arrived. He pointed me this way because he thought he'd seen you. Potter pointed out that I had heard it all before, but I had a tendency to follow every lead." His fingers brushed hers as she took it from him.

"Oh, my God," Hermione breathed, covering her mouth. "I forgot all about this." She ran her thumb over the words: _Order Safehouse '98, Granger. _"You kept this all this time?"

"Of course I did."

"You never gave up on me." She knew that, but for the first time, just what he'd gone through to get to this point truly sank in. "We lost so much time."

Draco rested his chin on top of her head. "When all this is over, we'll make it up to each other, okay? Potter and Weasley are working on this right now."

"You want to be there, don't you? Helping them?"

"Of course I do, but I know that if I got my hands on who did this… I might not come back. It's not a risk I can take again." Draco rubbed her back. "If I knew who kept you from me, I doubt I could control myself."

Hermione looked at the photo again, running her thumb over her face.

It felt like it was her and someone she didn't entirely know all at the same time.

* * *

When Ron and Harry returned to France, Hermione had known days in advance that they were coming. It wasn't that she was nervous—she was—she was—fuck.

She _was_ nervous.

From the bedroom, Hermione could hear them arrive and the laughter that followed. Reassuring herself that it wasn't as terrifying as her mind made it out to be, Hermione slowly went down the stairs. She wrapped her arms around her middle, her fingers digging into her jumper.

Scorpius chatted animatedly with Ron and she saw Ron's bewilderment. "Blimey, you look just like a mini Malfoy!"

Hermione cut in before the conversation could go any further. She didn't actually say anything at first, though she meant to, and three sets of eyes settled on her. "Hello."

"Mum," he tugged on the hem of her top. "They were in the albums. Do you know them?"

Nostalgia turned her stomach. "I do know them. They're my best friends. Do you remember their names?"

Scorpius pointed to each of them and named them. He drummed his fingers against his chin, which was more like Draco than any other mannerisms he had. "Ron hates Crookshanks."

"No, no," Ron said quickly. "I thought Crooks ate my pet rat so I didn't like him."

"Who would want a pet rat?" Scorpius asked, his nose twitching in disgust. "Crooks eats those."

Ron snorted. "See? I wasn't so far off base then either!"

"You were definitely wrong." Hermione's shoulders relaxed. "But how were we to know it was Pettigrew?"

Her son tucked himself behind her leg, suddenly shy, and Hermione smoothed his hair down. "Neither of us"—she nodded to Draco as he entered the room—"were able to introduce you after…"

Scorpius' fingers tightened on her leg, and she opted not to refer to it as an attack at all.

"This is Scorpius. He's not shy, so don't let him fool you, but he's not the biggest fan of strangers right now."

Harry crouched down, his heavy boots creaking against the floorboards. "How are you holding up?"

Her son peeked up at her.

"You can talk to him, sweetheart. There's no need to ask me for permission."

He slid out from behind her. "Are they going to come back? And don't lie."

"They might try," Harry admitted. "But we're not going to let them touch you ever again. Your dad will be right there and your mum. They'd never let anything happen to you."

Scorpius crossed his arms. "I don't want them to hurt Mum. I tried to help, but I don't know how to do it again."

From across the room, Draco growled a muted curse under his breath and rested his knuckles against the wall. "I'm not leaving again."

"You promise?" Scorpius countered before turning back to Harry. "Why did they hurt us?"

Harry faltered. "I think that's something your mum and dad have to explain to you. But for the record, you were very brave the way you protected your mum. I bet that guy won't walk straight for a week."

Normally, it would have earned a laugh, but Scorpius didn't even smile. "Good."

"Scorpius, why don't we go outside?" Draco ushered him out of the room. "We'll just give you some time, alright?"

She nodded.

And then they were alone.

Rocking back on her heels, Hermione wasn't sure what to say. She couldn't find the words, and it seemed that they didn't know either. "I, um—"

Ron spoke coherently first. "Can I hug you?' As soon as she nodded, he enveloped her in a tight hug, and picked her up off her feet. "Merlin, I thought I'd never see you again."

Hermione reached for Harry, sliding an arm around each of their necks. "I'm so happy to see you both." They set her down, and both of them sat across from her on the sofas. "I'm sorry if I'm not myself right now. Truly, I'm so glad you're here."

They talked for a long while, and she learned where they were at in their lives. Ron had married Susan Bones from their year, and they were quite happy, expecting their first child.

Harry had done the opposite, though Ron outed his mutually beneficial relationship with Ginny with an awkward pull of his collar. "Actually…" Harry cleared his throat with some difficulty. "I've met someone. Ginny's trying dating, and I think we're ready to go our separate ways."

Ron leaned back. "Who made that decision?"

"Ginny. There's always been some kind of love there, but it's not what it once was. I just needed someone to hold on to, and she's always been there for me." Harry's knee jumped up and down. "A lot has changed since you've been gone, Hermione. The people too."

Hermione tilted her head. "You're stalling. Spit it out and get it over with."

"I'm seeing Pansy."

Ron froze, his eyes comically wide. "_Parkinson? _You're spouting all this rot about how people have _changed_—"

"What are you yelling about?" Draco's drawl came from the corner of the room. Scorpius stood beside him, mimicking his stance with his arms folded across his chest.

"Harry's dating Pansy," Hermione informed him.

His mouth dropped open. "Well, that's—"

"Weird, right?" Ron asked.

"Interesting." Malfoy swallowed

* * *

Once Scorpius was dressed in his pyjamas, Hermione nodded to Draco. "We need to tell him the truth now. Ron almost let it slip earlier, and it would be best if he heard it from us."

Draco followed her up the stairs and into Scorpius' bedroom. His back was against the headboard and he raised his head.

"We have something we'd like to tell you," Draco said.

She sat on the bed beside Scorpius while Draco took the other side. "You know that Draco is your father, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course. It was my Christmas present."

Her eyes were already misty. "I've told you how I've remembered everything, but I haven't discussed who your _father_ is with you. You've asked me that same question for years."

Scorpius picked at a frayed string. "I don't care about him. He left us."

"Draco is your father, in _every _aspect," Hermione blurted. As Draco pinned her with a stare, she realised it probably hadn't been the _best _way to say it, but dragging it out would have been useless. "Draco never knew about you. Due to some… events, I didn't get the chance to tell him I was pregnant."

Scorpius grabbed Draco's hand. "Then why did it take you so long to find us then?"

"A witch attacked your mum, and hid her away here. Anyone who was there—who knew Hermione—thought she'd been killed, but I kept searching. The day I saw you, I knew you were my son."

"Is the witch coming back?"

Hermione shook her head. "She's gone, but we don't know who helped her. It's likely that whoever it was is the same person who sent those men to our home."

Draco pulled Scorp into his lap and slid closer to Hermione. "I met your mum at Hogwarts, the same school I told you about."

If Scorpius noticed him change the subject—and surely he did—he didn't point it out. "Will you tell me about Hogwarts?"

She leaned her head on Draco's shoulders while they told him all about it.

* * *

**One last chance to look away if you don't want to see this. **

**His lips pressed to hers, and Draco's wand brushed her temple as the whispered word unfurled across her skin. **"_**Legilimens."**_

**Hermione's fingernails dug into his thigh as he gently sifted through her memories. He was efficient, if a little slow—he heard that thought and hissed—until he arrived at the memory. She'd told him what they had done to her, to Scorpius, but to see it… **

**His anger rippled. Draco ripped away from her as if the memory burned, his chest falling with a stuttered breath. His features screwed up with rage and Hermione was certain that she had never seen him angrier than he was then. **

"**That fucking bastard," he growled. **


	21. Chapter 21

**SURPRISE. The final chapter is uploading today instead of next week. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. I hope the end is satisfactory. There will be a rambly note at the bottom, but I won't keep you from the chapter! The first scene is what was cut from the last chapter. **

* * *

Hermione pushed her jeans down her legs. "Draco?"

"Hmm?" He pulled his shirt over his head.

"He's terrified," she murmured, tugging the covers back. Waiting for him to slide into bed beside her, she pressed her cheek to the cool surface of her pillow. "We have to do something."

"It will all be over soon. Potter—"

"No," Hermione sat up. "_We_ need to do something. He's our son and in a few hours he'll wake up from a nightmare, screaming until his throat is raw. They hurt my son."

Draco tried to tug her back down, but she wouldn't budge. "I know. He's my son too, and I _promise you, _when I find—"

"If you don't use Legilimency on me tonight, I'm going to Ron. You might have convinced Harry that it's too dangerous, but I know Ron will see it from my point of view." The sheets bunched around her waist. "Shouldn't we be doing everything we can to find them? The answers are right in front of us, Draco. I know you're scared, but I think it's a risk we need to take."

They've had this argument.

In fact, they've had it multiple times.

"His birthday is next week," Hermione whispered, her voice breaking. "I don't want him to be scared on his birthday."

He grimaced. "I don't want to lose you. I've just gotten you back, Hermione. If this doesn't work, then—"

"Then we start all over. Or you're free to decide that you don't want to—"

"_Don't_," he warned. "I would do it over and over again until the end of my fucking life if I had to. It's not just that though. You could lose your mind. We need to consult a healer."

"I can't wait for that." She met his gaze. "Draco, I trust you."

Draco reached behind him for his wand, scowling. "Well, that makes one of us, at least." He sat up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "I love you more than my own life, you know that? Every time I look at you, I'm scared it might be the last time. I've already lived through losing you once. It could hardly be called living… I _can't_ do that again."

"I'm not going anywhere, but if the worst were to happen—and I have faith that it won't—we'll overcome that. We always have."

His lips pressed to hers. Draco's wand brushed her temple as the whispered word unfurled across her skin. "_Legilimens."_

Hermione's fingernails dug into his thigh as he gently sifted through her memories. He was efficient, if a little slow—he heard that thought and hissed—until he arrived at the memory. She'd told him what they had done to her, to Scorpius, but to see it…

His anger rippled. Draco tore away from her as if the memory burned, his chest falling with a stuttered breath. His features screwed up with rage and Hermione was certain that she had never seen him angrier than he was then.

"That fucking bastard," he growled.

* * *

Draco paced the length of the sitting room, his hands closed in tight fists, and his jaw clenched. She wished he'd sit down beside her so she could offer some sense of comfort, but given the fact that he hadn't slept the entire night before, Hermione didn't believe there was anything that could be done.

Scorpius remained upstairs, safe and sound, with Clara and Crookshanks. He was irritated that he wasn't allowed to join them under any circumstances. Hermione checked the stairs every few moments just to be sure he hadn't snuck down. Soon enough, Clara would put him to bed and leave.

The old woman that had looked after her for so long was still a mystery to Hermione, but she would ask Clara to explain everything fully in the morning. There was still the burning question about how Crookshanks had arrived in France after Hermione was finally allowed to live on her own. From what she could remember, Hermione had sent her familiar to Australia with her parents.

The thought of her parents twisted sharply in her stomach. Now that she'd regained her own lost memories, she could only imagine how angry they would be if she was ever able to reverse the charm. It had been for the best, she would maintain that reasoning stubbornly, and it might have even been better that they _didn't_ remember having a daughter considering she had disappeared for so long.

Hermione could reconcile one thought, however, and that was that she'd never fully understood just what she had done to her parents until her memories split her mind open in the middle of the night.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I was wondering how Crookshanks got here when he'd been in Australia, and that caused me to think of my parents."

His glare softened, and the sofa dipped under his weight. "Oh." Draco ran a thumb over her knuckles. "I see."

"Scorpius will probably never know his other set of grandparents." Her voice was low, shaky at best, and Hermione blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. "And with your father…"

It was the first time she'd broached the topic since Draco had sent a vase across the bedroom.

"He'll never get the chance to be near him." The promise filled the air and sunk into her bones. "As far as I'm concerned, he doesn't deserve to live in the same world as my son." The last two words were murmured so viciously that Hermione flinched. "I'm not—"

She nodded. "I know you wouldn't do anything to put us at risk, but Draco… you can't confront your father."

It was another disagreement, one that had rapidly festered over the last twenty four hours.

He clenched his jaw.

Swallowing, Hermione covered his hand with her own. "You'll kill him if you're in the same room, Draco. I think you're capable of many, many things, but being a father from Azkaban is not one of them."

Before Draco could say anything, plumes of green smoke filtered from the Floo and Harry stepped into the room. Dusting powder from his hair, Harry knocked the heels of his boots against the edge of the fireplace. "I don't have long. Robards has me working on—"

"You can stop working on that." Hermione and Draco exchanged a look. She stood, wiping her clammy hands against her jeans. "Draco used legilimency on me last night, and—"

"You did?" Harry's jaw dropped. "That's so fucking dangerous."

"If he hadn't, I would have gone to Ron. The pair of you want to protect me, and I know that, but _my job_ is to protect our son." Hermione threaded her fingers through Draco's. "What's done is done and all that matters now is that he recognised the men that were sent to attack Scorpius and I."

Her legs threatened to give out as Draco began to explain. Lucius was no stranger to the seedier parts of the Wizarding World, specifically Knockturn Alley. While he'd maintained a front of a lobbyist inside the Ministry for several years, Draco had seen terrible looking wizards enter the manor as a child.

And while she didn't know exactly what those wizards did—Draco hadn't told her and she hadn't asked—she had an idea.

"There were always two he favoured," Draco explained. "Apparently, they're still doing his dirty work."

Harry appeared ill. His face whitened several shades, and he continued to turn his gaze back to her—as if he still couldn't believe she was really there. "You're sure?"

"Mother says they've always known about Granger and I. This isn't something I would have thought him capable of."

"It's not your fault." Hermione pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "You couldn't have known it was him."

He swallowed, his throat bobbing. "I should have known. You've been here for years. He's kept up the charade this whole time." Draco pulled away from her and rolled his shoulders. "I've been waiting for you to get here before I take a portkey back to England."

A strangled sound forced its way free of her throat.

"You're the only one I trust to keep me safe. I'm going straight to Robards for the arrest warrant."

Her head spun. This _can't _happen.

Harry shook his head. "You're too close to it. You can't even see what a terrible idea this is."

"Of course I'm bloody close to it!" Draco slid his wand into the holster hidden in his sleeve. "He took _everything _from me. My son didn't meet his father for years. I never saw his first steps. I never heard—"

They all went quiet as the pitter patter of small feet sounded on the stairs. Both Hermione and Draco turned to find Scorpius leaning against the banister. "Miss Clara went home, but she forgot to read me a bedtime story. Daddy?" He rubbed his eyes.

Draco pinned Harry with a hard look. "I'll be right back."

She watched him climb the stairs and pick Scorpius up, who waved to her over Draco's shoulder. All she could think about was that she wanted every night to be just like this. Hermione waited for a door to close upstairs and turned to look at Harry.

"Don't let him step one foot in that manor," she whispered, her voice breaking in the middle. "If he does, he won't come back."

"He's got great self-control." Harry's face gave it away. "He really does, but I think if he ever sees Lucius again, he'll probably do something the DMLE can't cover up."

Hermione pushed hair back from her face. "Please. I've only just gotten him back. Scorpius finally has his father."

Harry pulled her into a tight, one-armed hug. "You know I'll take care of it."

She hoped that Draco would see it from her point of view once everything was over.

* * *

Hermione had kept a straight face when Harry told them he would go to Robards to complete the paperwork and be back the day after. Draco, of course, expected to go with him.

She worried about his reaction when the time came and that never happened, but eventually, he'd have to see it from her perspective.

In the room across the corridor from theirs, Scorpius was still sleeping soundly when she poked her head in to check on him. She waited to see his chest moving with each breath, and watched him roll onto his side, nuzzling the pillow. Leaving Draco to sleep—it was rare that she woke before him, especially now—Hermione descended the stairs, pulling her jumper tighter around herself.

The soothing smell of freshly brewed tea caught her attention, and she saw Clara sitting on the sofa, her ankles crossed as she sipped her cup. "Good morning, dear. Draco told me I was welcome anytime, and I thought you must have questions."

Hermione took the spot at the end, leaning her back against the armrest. "I don't know what to ask…"

A smile curved Clara's lips. "Well, that's alright. I'll start at the beginning."

The beginning.

There was something so terrifying that engulfed Hermione whenever she thought about _that_ day.

"As you remember, I discovered you on the edge of town, and it was a terrible sight. If anyone else had found you, I'm not sure you would have survived the night. You see, I'm the only witch here. No other wizards, either." Clara's fingers curled a little tighter around her mug. "Muggle medicine wouldn't have been able to heal you in time. You required several blood replenishment potions."

"I thought I was found in the morning… I was brought to the hospital in the morning—"

Clara nodded. "I didn't call for help until I stabilised you myself. At the time, I didn't know you were a witch. Your wand was missing."

It must have flown out of her hand when Bellatrix sent her hurtling into another country. Her wand could have landed anywhere.

Hermione gripped her replacement wand.

"I recognised Dark Magic at work, and once I was certain you would live, I took you to the Muggles. At that point, you really only required rehabilitation."

She'd had to learn to walk again, Hermione remembered with a bitter taste in her mouth. The trauma from the fall had been so great that it had led to extensive brain damage. Back then, she'd believed it to be from a beating.

"I never intended to insert myself into your life as a permanent fixture—though I'm so glad I did. When they told me you were pregnant at the hospital, it threw me for a moment because even then, I assumed that you must have known before you were—"

Swallowing, Hermione spoke softly. "I did know. We were in the middle of a war, and I kept it from Draco—from everyone. The woman that cursed me... She—she nearly killed me in Malfoy Manor."

Clara reached out and gripped Hermione's hand.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Anyway, please continue."

"Once I knew you had every intention of seeing the pregnancy to term and raising this little boy, I decided to go back to England. I hadn't been home in some twenty years, possibly longer. It's so easy to lose track. Once there, I sought out those two boys, though I never spoke to them directly. When I saw Draco alongside Harry though, I knew." Her expression darkened and Clara fidgeted in her seat.

"Clara—"

"I've delayed the happiness of your family for quite a long time, Hermione. I'm not sure it's something that can be forgiven. Even though I know you will, I'm certain you shouldn't extend that kindness to me. If I had gone to him earlier, he could have been here for Scorpius' birth."

Hermione reached for Clara's hand and gripped it. "It wouldn't have mattered. I could have never trusted him, and I think I would have run away from Draco had I seen him. I was terrified back then."

"At the time I believed Draco could have done this to you. The chains of pureblood ideals are not so easy to break, and I have to admit that I doubted him. Merlin, when he came here, I wasn't sure what to think."

"You were always so supportive of him, and you pushed me toward him." Hermione laughed.

"All it took was seeing him with Scorpius and you just the once and it was evident that this man had searched for you." Clara hesitated. "Has he told you how he found you yet?"

Hermione watched Clara shift in her seat. "He said he showed someone a picture not far from here."

"It was me." Clara grinned then. "I saw him long before he saw me, and I keep a supply of Potions."

"Polyjuice?" Hermione breathed. "You must have had to hurry home to get back to him."

Clara waved a hand. "He took his time asking people if they'd seen you. Seemed he wasn't going to take no for an answer."

That sounded just like him.

"He showed me a photograph that he pulled from his wallet. It was worn and faded, but there was no mistaking you. Your name was scrawled across the bottom, and it was impossible to not see how utterly devoted he was to you. I told him you were here and I decided then that I had spent too much time not being supportive."

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

"While I realise this _sounds _kind of me, it's not. I tried to control your life, Hermione, for what I thought was better, and that's not kind at all."

Hermione couldn't deny the fault with it. She knew that, on some level, it was terrible, but knowing it all _now_ served as a balm. "It's not, but I forgive you."

"To go back a bit, I ran into that red headed friend of yours in a particularly rough stage of grief when I was visiting England. Clearly, Polyjuice isn't an issue for me. I found him in a pub when he was inebriated, and still grieving. I asked him if you had any family. He let it slip when I kept digging. I went to Australia. I learned that you had sent your parents there under a heavy Obliviation charm. I never spoke to them."

"Were they happy?"

Clara winced slightly. "Yes, they were."

That was enough for Hermione. "You brought Crookshanks to me."

"I did." She smiled. "I didn't bring him directly to you. Instead, I set him loose just next to my house before you picked Scorpius up after work."

"By the time I got there, Scorpius had already decided to adopt him." It suddenly made much more sense that Crooks had bounded to her and leapt into her arms that day. "Clara, Draco and I will most likely return to England permanently. I hope it's not too much to ask, but can we still—"

"You won't need to travel to France to see me, dear." Clara smiled. "I've already decided that if you move, I think I'd like to move as well. I fancy myself a rather excellent grandmother—even if it's only a surrogate—and I'm not sure I could stand not seeing the both of you often." She patted Hermione's hand. "I should go, dear. Draco's waiting for you."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder and found Draco leaned against the doorway. He nodded to Clara as she let herself out, tucking his hands into his pockets. "How are you feeling?"

She hoped the day that he stopped asking her that question was drawing closer. "She answered all my questions."

Pushing away from the wall, Draco took the spot next to her. "Did I hear you say you want to return to England?"

It was too much to ask for him not to have heard that, she supposed. Hermione hadn't actually told him her thoughts, but she'd known it was what he'd want.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I can't imagine not going back. Everyone I know is there. Harry, Ron, and I know you've said you could work anywhere, but I want you to keep your career."

His arm slid around her shoulders and Hermione rested her temple against him. "It's still home to me."

"Then we'll go." Draco's voice was soft as he rubbed the nape of her neck, and she melted into him. "We'll go wherever you want, Granger."

"As soon as this is over."

* * *

Out of all the things that had been recently introduced to Scorpius—like the concept that HE could fly on a bloody _broom_—he was most curious about the Floo. Several times now, he'd seen someone arrive through it.

In the stretch of time between dinner and bedtime, Hermione found him creeping around the fireplace. He poked the grate before leaning away as if something might burst forward. His eyebrows dropped when nothing happened at all. "How do I use it?"

Draco spluttered, "You _don't_."

"It's because I'm a kid, isn't it?"

They hadn't seen her yet, so Hermione covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"Where would you go if you could?" Draco rested his hip against the sofa, and folded his arms over his chest, his Auror uniform crinkling with the movement.

He'd been wearing it all day, and Hermione was positive it was because of the comment she'd made about enjoying the sight of him in it.

Scorpius stared up at the Floo powder that was just out of his reach. "Hogwarts."

Draco's face softened and he knelt down. "We'll go soon, I promise."

"But I can't go until I'm eleven."

He chuckled. "We'll go watch the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match. That one's sure to be a good one."

"Do you think I'll like Quidditch?"

_Merlin, she hoped not._

"Maybe. I've always loved riding a broom, but Mum hates them."

"Why?"

"You should ask her sometime. It doesn't make much sense now that she's ridden a dragon." Draco let that fact drop as he feigned nonchalance. Their son caught it, however, and squealed.

"A _dragon?"_

"A dragon."

"They're real?"

Draco nodded. "If you go get yourself ready for bed without stalling, I'll tell you all about them before you go to sleep."

Scorpius shot out of the room, skidding across the wooden floor and sprinting up the stairs.

Watching from around the corner, Hermione was about to tell him _that _story wasn't child friendly when the Floo crackled. Narcissa's face appeared in the flames, panic stricken and void of colour even in the greenish hue.

A terrible shriek sounded through the room, and Hermione expected him to come running back down the stairs. "Is it true?"

Draco's eyes narrowed as he opened his mouth, but not a single word came out.

"Harry Potter just barged into the manor with more Aurors than I've ever seen—" Narcissa broke into sobs. "He arrested your father. Is it true? Did he keep her—Hermione—" Hermione could tell she couldn't breathe.

Unable to stop herself, Hermione hurried to Draco, gripping his hand in her own.

"It's true." Draco ground out, and he didn't return the motion as she squeezed his hand. "He sent Hit Wizards to attack Hermione and kidnap Scorpius after Astoria leaked the news."

Narcissa sank her fingers into her hair. "I didn't know, Draco. You must believe—Miss—Hermione, I'm _so_—"

"I don't blame you." Hermione couldn't quite believe the sight of the breakdown before her. "You've proven that you would never hurt your son, and I know you'd never hurt your grandchild."

She shook her head fervently, and Hermione could see Aurors pacing in the background. When Hermione heard 'Missus Malfoy', Narcissa wiped her face and closed the Floo without another word.

Draco stepped away from her, his nostrils flaring. "Did you know Potter was going to arrest my father today?"

Hermione thought she would have withered under his fierce glare if she were any other woman. "I begged him to do it. You can be angry with me for as long as you want, but I don't regret it and I wouldn't take it back."

She wanted to reach for him, but Hermione didn't know how the gesture would be received.

"It was selfish," Hermione whispered, and hearing him agree cut her deeply. "I know who you are, Draco, and I trust you infinitely, but I also know what _I _would do if I was face to face with that man."

Draco's boots were heavy against the floor as he closed the distance between them and pulled her into his chest. One arm locked around her middle, and he ran his other hand over her hair. "It's nothing compared to what I would have done."

Nodding, Hermione murmured, "I know."

They stood there for several moments, swaying slightly. "It feels like it can't possibly be over."

"Yet it is." Hermione pressed her lips to his jaw. "We'll need to go to England quickly. There will, undoubtedly, be a trial. We'll need to pack. With magic, we'll be able to finish it in no time at all."

It was easy, so easy to slip into what came next.

It was probably because she'd been waiting for years to go _home_.

"First, we'll need to put Scorpius to bed." His lips brushed the top of her hair. "And then I think we'll be a bit distracted for an hour."

She smirked. "An hour?"

Lean fingers curled into the soft flesh of her hip. "At the _very _least."

Swatting his chest, Hermione grinned. "Make your Gringotts story short and cast a silencing charm. I'll wait for you in the bedroom."

* * *

Just like Hermione had said, packing was simple with the aid of magic, but she'd insisted on boxing up her kitchen by hand. Scorpius gathered his toys while explaining to Crookshanks that they were going to their new home. He made sure to tell Crooks that there would still be mice for him to eat.

Hermione very sincerely hoped that wouldn't turn out to be true.

After deciding to wait to purchase a home, hoping the perfect one would appear on the market soon—even though Draco insisted he could _make_ the perfect house turn up in a listing—they found a flat in London that was sizably larger than the one he'd shared with Harry and settled in nicely.

Scorpius spent most of his time playing in the large sitting room, dragging toys out that he was slowly starting to put back in order. He stared out the window at Diagon Alley below, and his favorite nights were the ones when George hosted fireworks at the joke shop. It was nearly impossible to pull Scorpius away from the spot by the window where his breath fogged up the glass when the sky lit up in a flurry of colours.

There weren't many rules in their home in the weeks that followed them into the beginning of the year, but there was one that Hermione strictly followed: The Daily Prophet wasn't allowed in their home.

Eventually, Scorpius would learn every detail of their lives, but she worried about him hearing it all so soon. Even still, Draco kept his Dark Mark hidden beneath a strong glamour. She, too, hid her own scars from the war. Currently, the news of them—mostly _her_ and Scorpius—was still dominating every publication well into February.

It had all come out quite quickly once they had landed in the Ministry after taking an international portkey. Reporters had swarmed them from all sides, and Hermione had kept Scorpius sitting on her hip—even as he muttered he was far too old for that—and Draco draped his robes over their son's head as cameras flashed.

Neither of them detailed the nature of their relationship, or exactly when it had begun, but it had made its way into the new anyway. And word traveled fast. Suddenly, everyone knew that during the war—during the time that Draco Malfoy had turned against Voldemort—they had fallen into each other and had never come apart.

There were theories about what their lives must have been like, and when confronted with the question, Hermione snapped that _yes, _it had been difficult never knowing if she would ever see him again. In public, he always held onto her a little longer, and Hermione chose not to be bothered by it. Scorpius clung to them all the same, confused by all the attention his parents drew.

* * *

There was no talk of Lucius Malfoy in their home. Scorpius had no idea who the man was, and as Narcissa visited as often as she could—which had been another source of contention for Hermione—it was clear she had no aims to mention her husband ever again either.

In fact, it hit the Daily Prophet within two days of Lucius' arrest that she was petitioning for divorce.

The trial, if it could even be called that, didn't last long.

Hermione had submitted the memories that had been captured by mind healers, and there hadn't been any room for error. She sat in the room, her knee jumping up and down as her stomach rolled over on itself, until Draco rested his hand on her thigh, warmth tricking through her jeans.

All she'd ever needed to know was _why_ and Lucius hadn't been able to hold back the truth as the Wizengamot granted the use of Veritaserum.

Bellatrix had uncovered the pregnancy during the second bout of torture Hermione had fallen under at Malfoy Manor, and after they had escaped, she'd informed Lucius.

Hermione wasn't sure she would ever understand what had compelled him to opt for cursing her rather than killing her. Perhaps it was the mad witch's doing, to curse her to suffer all alone so far from home. Perhaps it was possible that Lucius hadn't wanted to kill Scorpius.

After all, he had sent men specifically to kidnap him instead.

Neither she nor Draco thought a life sentence was enough, but as it turned out, the Ministry had long since done away with Dementors.

"We never have to see him again," she murmured as the crowd stood.

Draco led her toward the exit, their fingers threaded together. "I love you." Pulling her into him, he cupped her face and kissed her like he imagined it was the last time. "I look at you and I can't believe you're here still."

"He's watching us." She didn't need to look to know Lucius was staring as he was led away.

"Good. He needs to know how much I love you." Draco tilted her chin up and slanted his lips over hers.

* * *

In another life, Hermione Granger would have worked at the Ministry. She imagined she would have worked in the Department of Magical Creatures, and would have worked her way up the chain of the DMLE as well since it had always been her plan to climb her way to the top. In that life, she probably would have run for Minister.

She would have won, by the way.

In _this_ life, Hermione didn't waste a moment pondering about things people expected of her.

Unexpectedly in the Spring, Flourish and Blotts shut down. Seizing the opportunity, she opened a bookstore that was all her own after buying the space. In a way, it felt like it was always meant to happen. After a successful launch, she stumbled through the flat with Draco, hands roaming over his chest, and pretended she hadn't seen a tell-tale box stashed in his pockets earlier that day.

There were no more dreams that bubbled up in her subconscious, but it still took months before the fear of forgetting everything completely went away. When she woke in the middle of the night, Hermione usually found Draco protectively wrapped around her. He'd taken to sleeping with his want, too.

On a trip to Hogwarts, Scorpius watched a Quidditch match in awe before declaring that he was going to be a Seeker some day, and Draco smugly informed him that he'd held that same spot back in school.

Hermione had little doubt that the boy growing up all too fast for her liking would be placed in Slytherin when the time came. Harry tried to convince him that Gryffindor was better, but he hadn't managed well against Pansy and Draco arguing their point.

She'd seen it fit to not get in the middle of it, and told Scorpius at bedtime that he could be in whatever house he liked.

The second of May arrived and Hermione had sat on the sofa, waiting for the clock to hit midnight. That night, she hadn't slept at all, and Draco found her still sitting there when he arrived home from a mission early in the morning. He took one look at her and sunk to his knees between her thighs. Resting his head in her lap, she combed her fingers through his hair as Draco whispered, "I'm going to spend the rest of my life giving you everything you want."

He's already done so, but Hermione didn't breathe a word as they sat together, his breath falling steadily to her thigh until he drifted to sleep.

* * *

It was impossible to sleep given the day and the memories it brought. Hermione had planned to stay inside, but Draco told her over a late breakfast that there was something he wanted to show her. "It won't take long, I promise. Then we can come home and spend the day doing whatever you like."

Draco held onto Scorpius as he Apparated and Hermione followed shortly after.

Hogsmeade looked the same, but it _felt _different.

Even as Draco chased Scorpius, who burst into giggles, through a patch of grass outside the village, Hermione couldn't help but notice the signs that the second of May had happened years and years before. It showed in the chipped brick on a building, and the empty spaces where businesses had never recovered.

Draco latched onto her sides and tickled her until she wrenched free of him. "That's not very nice."

He smirked. "Neither is the way you tickle me in the mornings, but—"

"You weren't complaining yesterday morning." Hermione shot back as he tugged her forward. "As you can recall, that turned out very well for you."

And it had by the way he'd pinned her to the bed with every intention to tickle her, but he'd sunk into her instead.

"What are you going to show me?" She sighed as onlookers caught sight of them.

Draco asked Scorpius to sit on the bench, and pressed a kiss to her temple. "They honored those who were killed during the final battle. Potter and Weasley gave me the chance to say goodbye in the only way I could back then." He stepped onto the granite slab and guided her toward it. "Can you find your name?"

She leaned forward, scanning the slab as several other names greeted her. Her eyes began to sting with each additional line.

_Fred Weasley._

_Remus Lupin._

_Nymphadora Tonks._

Hermione wanted to stop to read the words that accompanied them, but she paused when she found her own name. She couldn't _breathe_.

_Hermione Granger_

_1979 - 1997_

_Order of the Phoenix Member, Dumbledore's Army, Order of Merlin, First Class—posthumously._

"_You've always been the best of me."_

"Oh, my _God_." Hermione covered her mouth, her hands trembling as she stared up at him. "This… You..."

Draco gave her a watery smile. "They haven't fixed the fact that you're alive yet. It's a mess of bureaucratic shite, and— None of that matters. I'm fucking rambling." He raked his fingers through his hair. "I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you since I was seventeen years old. I'll love you today, tomorrow, and every day after." He stroked her cheek, and the corner of his mouth lifted as she leaned into him.

"I love you, too." It was a single breath, and then it didn't truly matter if anyone—or everyone—was watching. "You waited for me."

"Of course I waited. Merlin, Granger, did you even read that?" He laughed halfheartedly. "There was never anyone else. I told Potter I knew it then, and I knew it every day until I saw you again." Draco glanced down as Scorpius tugged the hem of his shirt.

"Did you tell her yet?"

Hermione cocked her head to the side, and wiped her eyes. "What is it?"

"Scorpius wanted me to tell you that he would like a little brother. He's rather sure he wants a brother and _not_ a sister," Draco managed, and it was clear that this hadn't been the way he planned to bring it up as he mouthed an apology.

She giggled. "Maybe one day, okay?"

Scorpius grinned triumphantly. "Can I have my little brother for Christmas?"

"Erm," Draco rubbed the back of his neck. "Might be a bit late." They watched Scorpius make his way back to the bench, and a smirk curved his lips. "You know, it might take a lot of practice."

Hermione snorted. "I assume you're up for the challenge."

His smirk was sinful. "I've always enjoyed a good challenge."

She ran her fingers over the words she never wanted to forget one more time. Pulling the delicate chain from under her shirt, she cracked the locket open. "You know, if we really stop to think about it, you say that I'm the best part of you, but it's really Scorpius." Her lips curved upward when Draco caught her hand and raised it, brushing his lips over her knuckles. "He's the best part of you."

He smirked. "Agree to disagree, Granger. Maybe he's the best of both of us."

_That_, she could agree on.

* * *

**I can't believe it's over? I'm so grateful to have had the best readers in the whole fandom, and the best support team to light the way. Frumpologist, mcal, dreamsofdramione, and the tumblr user who submitted the prompt that brought this story to life. I never, ever in a million years expected this story to get the attention it did. It's been exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. Feel free to let me know what you think in a review, PM me on FFN, or contact me via tumblr! **

**This will be my last dramione upload for a while, but I'm actively working on a new multi-chapter (dramione marriage law from Draco's POV) that I'm hoping to publish in May. You can find sneak peeks on my tumblr at mrsren96! **

**Thank you again from the bottom of my heart. **


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